Mugged, Drugged and Delirious
by smalld1171
Summary: The title kinda says it all.  Dean gets mugged.  Dean gets drugged.  Dean is delirious. *FINAL CHAPTER NOW UP*
1. Chapter 1

**Mugged, Drugged and Delirious.**

**Hey! I just love to mess with Dean in both the physical and mental way so this is the result. One of probably quite a few chapters. I hope that you will enjoy this first chapter and will come back for more! Feel free to review, you know they are golden! :)**

Dean leaves the store, bag in hand, anxious to get back to the motel and relax with Sam after another gruelling salt and burn adventure earlier in the day. As he walks along, he starts to feel a nagging sense of fatigue creep up into his entire body. Thank God the motel is only about a 5 minute walk because he thinks that is about the limit of his strength. Dean just looks forward to having a nice, mind-numbing night and maybe a few laughs with his brother.

As he rounds the street corner to go down the back lane he instantly feels that, once again, it just can't be as easy as that. He is a Winchester after all and nothing in this life ever seems to be handed out on a silver platter to anyone bearing that particular name. He comes to a halt when he sees two figures appear in front of him, inching slowly closer to where he stands. Deciding he is NOT in the mood for a fight he backs up and turns to go out onto the street again, cuz really it would only add one or two more minutes to his journey, no big deal. He turns and almost plows right into another two figures that must have been standing directly behind him.

_Man, you have GOT to be kidding me! Here we are, Sam and I, saving people LIKE YOU from the monsters and ghouls and witches and ghosts, and whatever the hell else comes along that DOES go bump in the night and what do we get for our troubles? Facing nothin' but inbred yahoos like YOU when I just wanna go out and get us some beer. Figures. Damn Humans!_

Looking behind him Dean sees that the other pack of two have now joined in formation and he feels semi-cornered, two ahead of him and two behind. As he doesn't like the vulnerability of that particular arrangement, he maneuvers enough to get at least three ahead of him and stands so that he can keep an eye on the fourth, the one that is blocking his access to the street.

He puts his bag on the ground and gestures with his hands towards his would be attackers. "Look guys, I've had a really long day, just wanna get back to my place, crack open a brew or two and sleep it off. Why don't you just run along and we'll forget all about this. Call it bad judgement and move on?" _Please._

"No way pal. Just give us your damn wallet and you can go about your business. Or, if you wanna be difficult about it I guess we'll just have to teach you a little lesson won't we?"

_God, why does this shit always happen to me? I thought I was the good guy right? Killing evil, slaying the worst of the worst. Now I am tired AND getting pissed off!_

"Sorry dude, not gonna happen. So, why don't you and your merry band of muggers get the hell out of here before you piss me off. You wouldn't like me when I get pissed off." _Huh, sounded like the Incredible Hulk there for a minute right? Cool._

Dean looks around, willing the four of them to just throw their hands up and say 'Yeah, you're right, sorry for bothering you sir.' The oldest Winchester sighs when there is no sign of the miracle he was hoping for. The four men look at him, look at each other and the leader just shakes his head to affirm that 'No, sorry sir, we are going to take your wallet whether you like it or not.'

_Okay, not moving. Let's see, what am I looking at here. Four? Four criminal types all eyeballing me? Four, all with some kind of makeshift what, knife? Hmm... that hardly seems fair. But, why would I expect anything less? Huh, at least I don't see a gun. Sheesh, is it normal to NOT be deathly afraid when four dudes want something from you and have sharp implements of pain with them to get it? Okay, let's get this show on the road fellas, I am dying to have myself a beer or seven to numb it all away._

"Dude, one more chance, we are going to take what we want anyways and won't shy away at having a little fun carving you up if you put up a fight. But hey, that might be fun too. For us!"

_Dean, just stand your ground, give them your best 'I dare you' look, maybe they will run in fear. Yeah, that's the look. Nope, not working, they aren't running. Get ready, Yahoo #1 now approaching straight at ya. Easy. Okay buddy, let's dance._

_Step number one, move to the side while yahoo tries to slice you. Done._

_Step number two, lift knee into groinal area of yahoo and send him to the tarmac. Done_

_Step number three, although not the smartest move, stretch out arm and motion with hand a come hither movement to yahoo number 2. Done._

_Step number four, dodge another knife thrust. Done_

_Step number five, punch, punch, punch yahoo number 2 in the face. Done. Done. Done. But now my hand hurts._

_Step number six, watch as yahoo number 2 doesn't go to the ground but smiles and lays a stars-across-my-vision slam to my face with his fist. Wait, that wasn't supposed to happen was it? Okay, how many yahoos were there? Okay, no fair, I feel one holding me from behind. I call foul!_

_Step number... um... ten? That doesn't seem right does it? Uh-oh, lost count. That is probably bad I think. Maybe? Don't know for sure._

"Ready to give it up yet buddy? We are just getting started you know." _What? Who is talking to me? Oh right... a big bunch of freakin YAHOOS! Man, I feel like I just wanna sleep. Just close my eyes for a second._

_Did yahoo #2 just hit me in the face again? I think that might of hurt. __Huh. I think I can feel blood pouring out of my nose. Did he just hit me again? And one more time? I can't really see out of my left eye anymore. I hope they don't scar my face, I love my face, have to stay pretty for the ladies right? Am I still standing? I can't tell. No, must not be, cuz now I see eight yahoos all in my line of fuzzy vision. Wha? Eight? No, I wouldn't really take on eight inbreds would I? _

_What? Are you talkin' to me? Huh, moved on to Taxi Driver have ya Dean? Awesome movie dude! Concentrate, someone is talkin to ya. What? Speak up! Hey! Get your hands off me! This is kinda funny, maybe I should have mentioned earlier that I left my wallet at the motel. MORONS! HA!_

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello Everyone! Thanks for taking a look at this angst-filled journey! :) I hope you enjoy Chapter 2 and any comments you would like to leave will be truly appreciated! Thanks again for giving this story a chance...**

_I don't feel so good. Sam, did the ghost get me? Or you? Are you okay? Sammy?_

Dean tries to open his eyes, to find his brother but, well, only one of his eyes seems to be working at the moment. He's flooded in an instant with the realization of what is actually happening here. He has now assumed the fetal position and covers his head with his hands to deny any access to his face. _Right, being manhandled by a bunch of societal rejects. Oh, and they have just figured out that I don't have what they want. Here comes the pain Dean, here comes the pain._

"Shit! All this effort, all this trouble and what do we get? Nothin! This guy has got nothing on him! Unbelievable! This really pisses me off!" And with that, yahoo #1 winds up and delivers a hate-filled kick to Dean's side. Yahoo smiles as his ears hear a grunt of pain escape his victim's lips. Maybe not a total loss for the night then. "Not so tough anymore are we buddy?" He grabs Dean by the scruff of his jacket, pulls him up to a sitting position and leans him against the side of a dumpster. He reaches down and grabs his knife, holding the blade only inches away from Dean's face and sees the undeniable terror in his eye. "Not gonna kill ya dude but really, even you must admit that you deserve a little cuttin' for all the effort we have put into you just to come up empty. Right?"

_Keep your mouth shut. Just keep it shut Dean. Shit! I can't NOT say something to these yokels. _"Yeah, sorry for," _god, my side aches _"..putting a damper," _just breathe Dean _"... on your plans for the evening." _Okay, another punch to the face. Stop while you're ahead Dean. Can't. Gotta be a smartass, you know how it is. _"Maybe there's an old lady you can rough up around the corner for her change purse? Pussies." _Huh, was that the back of my skull making that sound? So that's what bone against dumpster sounds like...hmm...who knew? Uh-oh, get a grip Dean, stay focused._

"How is it that you are still alive with that kinda mouth dude?" Kick number two is delivered on target once again to Dean's side. "Okay, time to do a little slice and dice hey? Maybe you will keep that mouth of yours shut the next time you find yourself in this kind of situation, which probably won't take to long with that attitude of yours right?" He feels his victim try to squirm away, try to fight against the oncoming pain but yahoo has no problem subduing him. He's practically like putty in his hands. "Hmm...where to cut first? Cheek? Chin? Forehead? Nah, I'm thinking I'll go for the neck first." Dean is panting and panicking and yahoo is loving the power he has right now over him. He takes the knife and slashes it across his neck. Not deep, nothing to cause permanent damage but he knows by the reaction he gets that it hurts like hell.

"Sonofabch! Alistair! Stop!" _Please just leave, go away, leave me here. No more cutting. No more slicing. God, don't peel my skin off! Don't cut out my tongue. Leave me my eyes! Gotta get away, gotta get away!_

Dean tries to scurry back from his tormentor but can't seem to move, he's trapped against something solid. Instead, he grabs hold of his attacker's hand, desperately trying to release the grip it has on the blade. He looks up into Alistair's face. _Wait. What? Not Alistair. Who? _He feels a chuckle work it's way out of his burning lungs. _Right. Yokels. Yahoos. Inbred. Looking for cash. Not finding any. Not in Hell. Just in a back alley somewhere. Thank God for that. Not so bad then I guess. At least I won't burn this time. _He releases his hold of the arm and lets his hand drop into his lap._It's okay Dean, this is not Hell. You are not in Hell._

"Hey, we gotta get going! Just leave him and lets get the hell out of here before someone comes!" Yahoo looks to his buddy and back to Dean. Yeah, this was fun but not worth getting carted off to the slammer for. Besides, this dude is really messed up and won't remember any of this shit anyways. Ah well, can't have fun all night I suppose.

"Yeah, okay, just one more second. Keep a watch on the road!"

_Wow, these guys just keep supplying the ammo. How am I just supposed to forget I hear it? I can't keep it inside, it is just so good not to share with others. _"Bettr git goin... y're momma will be worried. Don' wanna get grounded do ya? Or maybe you want a good spankin?" _Shit Dean, shut up already._

This guy is really asking for it right? So, not really my fault right? Maybe just one or two more cuts. Who knew inflicting pain on others would be such a high? It feels pretty good and this dick really did ask for it. "Okay buddy, well, you obviously enjoy the pain since you keep asking for more in your own special way. We're almost done. It's almost time for you to have a little nap. But, this is just so much fun and since you can't keep that smart-ass mouth shut, how about you let me hear one more scream of pain from ya okay? Hmm.. let's see... where to go this time?" Yahoo travels his eyes up and down, trying to find the exact spot that would garner a scream from Mr. Tough Guy here. Ah, yeah, how about a nice slice across the wrists? If he happens to bleed out before anyone finds him then so be it. Grabbing Dean's left wrist he holds it in a vice grip, sees a nice plump vein running through it and swipes the blade across it.

"Ahhh! Shit! Stop! God!" Dean attempts to free himself but it is a useless effort, his whole being seems to erupt in pain.

"Shhh, it's okay, not to worry. Just one more wrist to go and I will just be an unpleasant memory to you my friend."

_No! No more cutting! _Dean fights with what strength he has left but is distracted by the way he can hear his heart beat, his pulse thumping along. _That's not good right? _He feels the stickiness of his fluid, of his blood, as it spills from his nose, from his neck, from his wrist, onto his jeans, onto the ground. _Bloodloss is bad right? Spots? Seeing spots is bad right Sammy? Sammy? You okay? _He feels another stab of paint shoot through his right wrist. His vision continues to cloud over and he just wants to have a little nap. _Hey, it's okay. I wanted to be numb right? I mean, I would have preferred the numbing effects of alcohol instead but hey, this is still good. This..is numb..too. Numb. Is. Numb. Right?_

"Nighty-night tough guy. Sweet dreams." He wipes the blood from his knife and his hands onto Dean's jacket, releases the grip he has on him and watches as he lists to the side and falls to the ground in a heap. Yahoo stands up, admires his handiwork for one more moment and looks over his shoulder to his buddies. "Okay guys, time to get the hell out of here!"

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Howdy to all! I hope that you will enjoy this latest chapter. Poor Dean just doesn't know where he is, what's going on or where in the hell that Sammy boy went to. Ah, the joys of story-making freedom. I'm having fun writing so I hope that you will have fun reading. Please, if you like it let me know and throw a comment my way, I truly appreciate the feedback. Anywho, enough of that... ENJOY! :-)**

_Geez Sam, I'm fricken freezin my nads off over here bro. Turn on the damn heat already! Wait. What the hell. Am I laying face down on the god damn floor! What the hell Sammy? Nice. How? Beer? But, did I drink any? Don't 'member. That's a good sign of a good night right? But, Frig! Okay, something is off. Did I get into a bar fight? Again? Head hurts. Face hurts. Huh, what the, is my eye actually swollen shut? Friggin Awesome._

Dean rolls onto his back and with a sharp intake of breath opens his eyes the best he can. He blinks to clear some of the confusion, some of the fog but notices things aren't quite as they should be. _What? Darkness? You are kidding me! I'm outside? Wha? Okay, c'mon Dean, get up man, you gotta find Sammy. Make sure he's okay. Get up! _"S'mmy?" _Louder than that Dean. _"SAMMY! WHERE..." coughs rack through Dean's frame as he struggles to get the words out. "WHERE ARE YOU? SAM?" _God, my head. Is this what it feels like before you combust from the inside out? Huh, I wonder. Dean, remember, Sammy needs you. He's out there somewhere. Don't be a dick, get up already. _"SAMMY! YOU OKAY?" _Wait. No. __Oh, no..no... can't get sick. Not now. Gotta help your brother, don't get sick damn you!_

The older Winchester rolls onto his side and pauses as his stomach continues to flip. And flop. He swallows and tries to coax his guts to calm their queasy motions. _Shit. _Dean keeps his head turned to the side and expels any and all contents that were making their home in his stomach and leaves them laid out on the pavement. _God, my side too? __Nasty dude, so not cool. I hate when these friggin' ghosts get to me like this. But, if this has happened to me then what's happened to Sam? _Panic starts to grip him as Dean pictures his little brother suffering at the hands of some pissed off ghost. "SAMMY!" _How did we get out here? Wait. What's that? What's that noise? Be cool Dean, stay quiet._

Dean stops any movements all together and listens to the sound of footsteps as they fall on the ground, hears them get closer, and closer, until they stop pretty damn close to him as far as he can tell. _Great. What now?_

"Hey man. Hey there, are you okay? What happened to you? You don't look so good. Can you hear me?"

_That sure the hell is NOT Sammy's voice. What did you do to Sam? Where is he? _"Wher's S'm, bastrd? Wheres. What do t'him?" _I sound pathetic! My mouth isn't working too well. Gotta get up now. Can't show weakness. _As Dean tries to push of the ground he is stopped in his tracks by the fire that rages in his arms. He drops unceremoniously back to the ground from where he started. _Frig! Head. Side. Arms. Stupid ghost! Can't even 'member wha happen. Gonna frickin kill ya bitch! But didn't we salt and burn your dead ass already? Whatever, I am gonna kill ya again if I have to! Once I can get up that is. Huh, that's a funny joke Dean, you are good man, you are good. Stop it. Concentrate. Sam. Think only about Sam._

"Woah man, I don't think you should move. You look like you're hurt pretty bad. Just stay still, I'll call for help."

_Okay, not a bad guy, not a ghost, but just who is this frickin' dick? Doesn't he know what's out here? That he's just waiting for the bitch to get'm? Gotta warn him. Gotta get him the hell out of here. Get away from me! Don't help me. Don't need help. Can't watch another innocent die because of me. Okay, where'd you go? Huh, can't see much. Aha! Of course...blood. Gettin' in my eye. Just another day at the office eh Sam? Sam? Right, he's out there somewhere. He needs me. _"Y'better get...gone...go... gonna be back... leave me.. not worth...save self.."

"Try and stay calm, I'm calling for help. I'm not going anywhere, just try and relax. There's no one else here. I wanna help you." The passerby grabs his phone from his pocket.

Dean wipes the blood from his eyes and catches a glimpse of his hand. Of his wrist. _What? Where? When did that happen? Did I do that? No, I wouldn't do that. Would I? No, I wouldn't try and off myself. Have to stay, protect Sammy. Right. Sammy. Where are you? _He then looks to his other hand and turns it over, palm up. _God, BOTH wrists? What? NO! NO! I didn't. Did I? Get a grip Dean, of course you didn't! But, I don't 'member. Would I?_

As the man dials 911, he glances back over at this stranger lying on the pavement. Now what's this guy doing? Looking at his hands like they just grew there? What? Oh God, his wrists. They're slashed. Did he do that to himself? Quit thinking and just press send now! "Yeah okay, I need an ambulance to the alley behind the drugstore on Main street please. No, not me but there is a man here who looks to be in pretty bad shape. No, he's awake but he's not making much sense." He keeps a closer eye on the stranger now, whatever is going on man, it can't be that bad. "What? Well, from what I can tell his face is a mess. Swollen eye, maybe a broken nose. Took a beating I'd say. There's a lot of blood. And.. well..." He whispers into the phone now, "both of his wrists are cut. Yeah, it looks like it was on purpose."

_Gotta get up damn it! You can do it. Snap out of it Dean, your mind is just screwing with ya again. I know, it should stop doing that. God, am I really having a conversation with myself? Huh, that's a new one. _With all the available strength he can muster, Dean moves and somehow manages to get into a sitting position. He then closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing_. WooHoo! Step one done. No problem Deano! Oh no, I hate that name. Breathe through the nausea. Breathe through the pain. You can not stay here, you gotta move. NOW!_

"How long until the ambulance gets here? Because this guy is trying to get up!"

_Ahhh... good old dumpster. Always around when you need one. To lean against. To throw out all the trash... or bodies... or evidence. Focus Dean. But, maybe it'll be okay to just rest here? Just for a minute? Gather some strength. Yeah, good idea. Good. _

"Okay, I'll try and do something to stop the bleeding but please, tell those guys to hurry. He's fading fast I think. I'll put the phone down where we are so you can hear okay? Yeah, okay, thanks." The samaritan approaches cautiously, not wanting to spook the guy. Man, what the hell happened to you? As he kneels beside the dumpster, beside this man and places the phone down, he can't help it when a small sound escapes him at the sheer scope of what he sees. Such a broken body. Blood everywhere. No one deserves this. "Hey, buddy? Can you hear me?" He sees a slight roll of his head towards the sound of his voice. "My name is Richard. Can you tell me your name?" Silence. "You don't want me to keep calling you buddy or dude or hey you all night right? Please, just tell me your name." He sees a slight smirk move across this stranger's face.

_Right. Forgot that I have company. Why does he care who I am? What my name is? What's his name again? Ricky right? Okay Ricky, relax, don't get your panties in a bunch. I'll play along. _"Huh..you funny..buddy..dude..hey you..called worse before...don't want ya to cry though Ricky..name's Dean."

Richard lets out a snicker at that. "So you're a comedian huh Dean? Well, thanks, I actually was on the verge of tears there. Okay, so, I'm just going to try and help a bit until the paramedics get here okay?" Nod. "I'm going to have to put some pressure on your wrists okay, to stop the bleeding. You've already lost a lot of blood from what I can tell." He watches as Dean slumps forward and Richard knows his moment of clarity is probably gone. "Okay? Dean?"

"Mmm.. yeah, ok S'mmy...feel weird...can't think...but got it right...ghost...gone right...can't hurt anymore...and alistair...he can't get me anymore right...i'm not in hell right...i'm not in hell anymore...don't wanna go back...burns...hurts...I thought...I thought I saw him Sam...alistair...he was here...he wanted to skin me...again...but he can't right...he's dead...you okay S'mmy?"

Ghosts? Hell? Okay, this guy, Dean, really needs some serious medical attention. Wanted to skin me? He is definitely NOT in his right mind. And who is Sammy? Richard removes his tie and thinks it's a good start for at least one wrist. He checks a jacket pocket and discovers that yes, he actually does have a handkerchief. Who knew they would ever come in handy? If it wasn't so serious he would laugh at that. Okay, showtime. Richard moves in closer to Dean, and takes hold of his left wrist. He was expecting a moan of pain or maybe nothing at all but he certainly wasn't expecting Dean to go into a mad panic and try to bolt.

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay, I am enjoying some wonderful company from out of town. I hope you enjoy and I would really love to hear any thoughts you have about the story thus far, I truly appreciate hearing your thoughts! I hope you like and I hope to update sooner next time. Thanks again for giving this story a try! :)**

**Motel**

As Sam opens his eyes he feels the weight of sleep linger on them. He lets out a contented sigh and runs his hand down his face. Man, those hot showers after a long night of evil-hunting sure do make a guy tired. As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the motel room, he scans the area for sign of his brother. His eyes continue to roam and then realize that he is still on his. Sam assumes he wasn't out for long since Dean hasn't returned from his beer run yet. Always with the beer. Oh well, I guess everyone needs a way to unwind after killing something that was already dead. Huh, that statement is still very, very weird. As he feels a slight chill run through him, Sam realizes that he actually fell asleep above the covers clad only in a t-shirt and boxers. Okay, time to get moving. With that thought, Sam grabs some clothes out of his duffel bag and heads back to the washroom to change.

**Alley**

"Ahhhh! Ged off...bastard...on fire...why are you burning me? don't...touch...me..." _Wait. Can't think. What is happening? Concentrate Dean. Ghost? No, got it. Hell? No, got out. Yahoos? Yup, always with the fricken yahoos! _"Fricken yahoos!...losers!...no wallet...try someone else... whatya want?" _Why are you burning me? My wrist, my arms... how did you know to burn me? _"STOP! STOP burning me!" _Why is this happening to me? again? where's Sam? Is he burning too? God Sam...I'm so sorry. Arms on fire. Can't breathe. Can't think. Where are you Sammy? _"get... your god...damn hands... OFF. OF. ME!" _Gotta get away. No more burning. No more. Pain. _Dean tries to twist from the fire, get his hand out of the flames, out of the pit but it doesn't budge. _God, haven't I gone through this enough? Can't take anymore. _"NO MORE! let me go! PLEASE! I'm on fire! I'm BURNING! SAMMY, HELP ME! Don't let me burn again! PLEASE! SAMMY!" _Get away Dean! Do it now, get away from the fire. NOW! _Dean takes a swing towards the owner of the hand that is shooting fire through his wrist, his hand, his arm, and smiles as he connects, albeit weakly, with his intended target. _Shit, not enough. Still got me. Still in the fire. Still burning. But why? Can't think. _

Richard startles slightly at Dean's attempt to punch him but can sense the confusion, delusion, and utter chaos swirl around in this man, this man he didn't even know existed half and hour ago. As he listens to Dean continue to ramble on about the most impossible of things he feels that in this moment, this broken man actually believes every single thing that he has spoken aloud. What goes on in that mind of yours? You need some serious help. As he continues to ponder the scope of the inner turmoil within the man before him, Richard feels a slight smile tug at his lips and feels an intense swell of relief flood him as he hears the most beautiful of sounds. Sirens. Coming this way. Just off in the distance. Thank God, it's about damn time! Hang on Dean, almost made it. Just hang on a few more minutes. Richard adjusts his position until he is directly in front of the other man, easily latches on to his right wrist and applies pressure to it.

_God. Stop. Burning. All over, burning. Can't breathe. Why? Stop. Not strong enough. Can't get out this time. No. Wait. What is wrong with my head? I can't be burning, I got out of Hell. I came back. I'm with Sam again. Hunting. Always hunting. So, just what the frick is going on here? My arms. _Dean's gaze falls to his arms. Arms that are being held in place by another set of hands. Dean lifts his head to see who these hands belong to. _Richard. Ricky. He's helping me. But why? What happened to me? Is he okay? Did the ghost get him? No, wait. The ghost is gone. He doesn't look so good. _"Hey..Ricky... you okay man? don't look so hot...why are you holding me? what happened again? can't 'member...can't think good now..."

**Motel**

As Sam exits the washroom feeling refreshed and ready for a brew. C'mon Dean, hurry up! Sam looks over at the clock. That can't be right. He looks again. Okay, that is definitely NOT a good sign. Two and a half hours? That seems like an overly excessive amount of time, even for Dean, to zip down to the local shop and back. Let's see. What reasons could there be for Dean to be so tardy? Bar. Women. Trouble. The younger brother begins to feel an uneasiness squirm around in his gut and finds himself actually hoping his brother is off either gettin' drunk or gettin' lucky. Sam reaches for his phone and chants in his head...please be at a bar...please be at a bar... He dials Dean's number and feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in attention as he hears the distinctive tone of his brother's phone. In the room. Crap. His gaze travels to the nightstand and that is where he sees them. Dean's phone, Dean's keys and Dean's wallet, all laid out, like they are silently mocking him. Nothing can be easy I guess. His thoughts now instantly gravitate towards the third option on his list. Trouble. Perfect. But really, how could someone, even a stubborn-ass brother like Dean, possibly find trouble out there on a mission of retrieving beer from the local shop? Sam shakes his head at the question. Shit. As the thought is still rolling through his head, Sam puts on his shoes, grabs the keys to the Impala and heads out the door. Damn it Dean.

**Alley**

What? Did Dean just ask me if I am okay? This guy is unbelievable. "Dean, there's nothing wrong with me. You are the one who is hurt. Remember? Something happened to you. You look like you took a beating. Do you know who did this to you? You were saying something before about yahoos? I like that term by the way, but you should really keep it to yourself." Richard wants to ask about his wrists but doesn't want Dean to float back into zombie-land.

"Huh..'m heads fuzzy Rick..yeah, yahoos..jumped me..good thing didn't have wallet..are they the ones who burned me? cut me? made me scream? did I really go to hell? maybe just a dream. yeah, that would be great. Hell is bad Ricky. make sure you're good. don't wanna go down to the pit...burns...hurts...they peel...they slice...dice..and they laugh...while your skin burns..and bubbles...and falls away.. make sure your good okay? Okay Ricky?"_ You don't want to go there. You seem like a good guy, don't go there. Be good. Stay away._

"Yeah, ohhhh kay Dean, whatever you say. I'll be good." Richard knows that Dean is hurting but maybe there is more to it than that. Maybe he isn't taking his meds or something? Maybe he cut himself to get away from the ghosts? From hell? "How are you doing Dean?"

"m'fine Rick..always..always fine..gotta be strong..can't show weakness..tough..smart ass..keeps you alive right? just...help me up...gotta go...gotta get going...next job...there's always a next job...damn ghosts..spirits..they just keep on a comin..what's dead should stay dead..maybe I should get a tattoo like that... yeah, that'd be cool...awesome!" _Okay Dean, time to go. Gotta find Sam. Gotta find another hunt. Can't stay still for to long. Gotta keep movin'. But Sam? He's okay right? Yeah, just you out here tonight dude. Just you._

Richard sees the ambulance pull into the alley. "No can do Dean. Help is here, the ambulance is gonna take you to the hospital and get you checked out. You don't need to go anywhere right now. They need to look at you, to help you. You know you need help right?" He looks towards the paramedics. "Over here! We're over here!" His gaze then travels back to Dean. "Still with me right Dean?" He sees a slight nod. "Help is here. Let these guys look after you okay? You really need to get some help."

Dean can hear footsteps._It's about time Sammy. I thought you'd never get here. I guess I'm hurt. I guess I need some help? Let's get goin okay? Need to leave. Need to sleep. Tired. God, so tired. Why can't I think right? Why aren't you helping me? You okay? _"Thank God... Sammy...I knew you'd come..you always do..patch me up..make me whole again... Sammy? SAMMY!"

The medics come up to the pair of men just as Dean is starting to panic again. Richard moves to allow access to the injured man and watches as Dean tries to bat away the new set of hands now clamping onto his wrists. "SAMMY! Please! don't let 'em...can't fight...so tired...where are you? don't leave me here...they're getting me...Ahhhh! Stop!" Richard's eyes are glued to the scene before him. He lets the medics know all the information he can about what has happened. He explains the injuries that he has seen, how he thinks that Dean took a beating, and as he goes into the details of the delusions and the panic modes that he has witnessed, he tells them his thoughts about the condition of his wrists. After all, why would someone who is beating you up cut your wrists? Doesn't make any sense. And so, Richard continues on, his focus only on how to help someone he believes to have some serious mental issues, and tells the paramedics that he thinks the wounds on Dean's wrists were self inflicted. That Dean did it to himself. On purpose. To stop the pain. To stop Hell. To stop the ghosts within.

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi everyone! Here is the latest chapter for you to have a gander at. As always, I hope that you find some enjoyment in it. To all of those who are having a read, thank you very much! Feel free to comment or review, it makes my day to read what you think about what I am putting those Winchester boys through. Thanks again. Happy Reading! :)**

_Too many hands. Why are you touching me? Get away from me. I'm fine. Don't need help from anyone. Sammy? Ricky? Wha? Stop, I'm fine. Leave me alone. _"Stop. Don't touch me. I'm fine. Just let me go..need to go. Don't need help. Let me up! NOW!" Dean tries to concentrate on what is happening around him. He sees faces. So many faces looking down at him. Then he feels blinded as a bright light sears into his eye, cutting into his head and making his head ache worse that ever. "Frick! God Damn it! Stop putting light..in my face.. or I'll kick... your ass!" _So fricken bright! Stop it, my head is going to explode! just kill me already! Move Dean! Please! _Dean tries to get away, tries to fight off the hands that hold him, to fight the pain, to fight the urge to just give in, give up, to fight the call of sleep. "Why are doing this? Just.. leave..me."

"Dean? My name is Steve. I'm a paramedic and my partner Perry and I are here to help you. Stop fighting. You have some pretty significant injuries and you need to go to the hospital to get looked at. Just try and relax and we'll get you the help you need. What do ya say? We can get you somewhere that can make you feel better."

_Oh. My. God. Are you fricken serious? Chick-flick-o-rama or what? Please buddy, go home and watch something on the women's network, I ain't interested in all your we'll make you feel better shit. You can't make me go anywhere and I have no intention of getting 'looked at' by you or anyone else. _"Thanks for offer...but... I am fine. You came all this way for nothing. Ricky over here just got a little carried away. He's kind of an emotional dude."_ Please just go away. I'm fine. I am always fine._

"Okay Dean, listen to me for a second okay? Why don't you concentrate on me while Perry gives you a quick once over before we move you okay? I can see that you are not too keen on heading over to the hospital, I know that for some people it can be a frightening experience. But, you have to trust me when I say that we can not leave you here in the alley. From what Richard has told us, we understand that you were assaulted earlier tonight. By the looks of you the beating you withstood was not a minor one. You seem to be a bit confused and not thinking straight. We need to make sure that you haven't sustained significant injuries to your head or neck. You might have a concussion and you eye is swollen shut. Dean, you have injuries that need to be looked at and you have unexplained wounds. We are obligated to take you in and determine how those wounds came about. Can you tell me how you managed to sustain the cuts to your wrists?"

Dean looks down at his wrists again and his face crinkles up in thought. _Hmm. How did I get those? Ghost? Hell? Richard? Me? NO! To all of the above. Can't think. Can't remember. I wouldn't do that to myself. Not with so much to do. So much evil to kill. So many people to save. Too many things to hunt and people to save. I would not try to go out like that. Never. Not my style. I'm more of an action hero type of guy, go out fighting, to the end. _"Let me..make this..perfectly clear... I did NOT do this to myself!" _Woah. Dizzy. Just relax Dean. Don't let them see. Be cool. Please, play it cool. _"If I wanted to go out I wouldn't be such a wuss about it. I'd use something with a 100% guarantee... like a shotgun to the head! But really, cutting my wrists? What a pansy way to go out... that would be a cry for help...and.. I don't CRY! So, let me the frick up right now and we can all go on our merry ways. Got it?" _Well you could have played that just a little bit cooler I think Dean. Good one. Loser. _Dean goes to move, to lift up his legs, his arms, his head, just something but all he can feel is hand after hand after hand holding him in place, not giving him an inch. He feels panic and nausea flood his senses and fights the urge to scream, to let all his emotions out. _Don't panic Dean. They want a reason to take you away. Just wait for an opening. Be patient. Sammy will find you. Right? He must be looking. Right? He will come and take you away from this. Or he will wake you up from this fricken nightmare already! _

"Perry, get the stretcher, we are moving him now." Looks towards Dean. "Dean, I'm sorry but you don't have a choice and neither do I. We are taking you now. You can't explain what happened or don't want to tell us and regardless of that you might have more serious injuries that we can't detect out in the field like this. We are taking you to the hospital where your physical wounds can be patched up and maybe that is the place that you will be able to talk to someone about how the wounds to your wrists got there. About any emotional wounds that you carry around. I'm afraid it is not up for debate, I'm sorry but we are going. Now." Steve hears a chuckle. A laugh. And then an almost hysterical guffaw come from his patient.

"For the love of... please dude...give me a break...could you be...anymore...gay than that? Physical wounds? Emotional wounds? Please... I am fine damn it!... and you are going to feel like a total.. fricken.. ignoramus when you figure out that there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with me! I'm always fine don't you know? Brave in the face of certain death. A hero you could say." Pause. _Shut your mouth Dean, you are not helping yourself here. Oh, screw it, I am so tired. What the hell, might as well let some out. "_Saving people. Hunting things. That's my motto you know. Saving people and hunting things. Emotional damage? Maybe. Physical wounds? Most definitely. But please, no one on this earth. No one will ever understand the toll this life of mine has taken." _What am I doing? God, even I am starting to think I'm crazy. These people shouldn't care about me. They should leave me alone. _"So, why don't you just put a bandaid or two on me and frick the hell off! Go find someone who wants to be saved. Who needs to be saved. Who deserves to be saved. Don't waste your emo talents on me. I don't bend, I don't break, and I certainly don't buy any of your bullshit! I don't want to hurt you Stevie but if you don't let me get the hell out of here I can not be held responsible for what I do to you! And your buddy over there."_Hmm. I detect about a 0% on the coolness chart for that outburst Dean. What is wrong with you? Lost your charm mojo or something? God, quit thinking, you're brain is going to hemorrhage. Huh. Funny one again dude._

Dean feels hands again. Feels a brace go around his neck. Feels his arms being held down as he struggles to get free. He hears Richard say something to him but can't quite make it out. He feels himself be lifted up and put on a wheeled gurney. The entire time he works at finding a way to escape, to get out of this and back out on the road, back to the motel, back to Sam. He fights dizziness and fatigue and then he feels pure, unflinching, inescapable fear. Panic, uncontrollable panic. _NO! NO! You are NOT tying me down to this friggin thing! _Images flash through his battered brain. Chained up. Tied up. Unable to move. Unable to look away. Fear. Horror. He can't move when the burning comes. He can't move when the pain comes. He can't move. He can only be witness to his own death. His own torture. He fights the force that holds him there. The chains. The chains holding him to that metal platform. Raised before his tormentor, lifted up so he can be tortured. Over and over. Again and again. _GOD! NO! NOT AGAIN! DON'T! _He begins to thrash as much as his restricted mobility will allow him. He no longer sees Richard or Steve or Perry. He sees Hell. And Alistair. And Death. All around him. "STOP! NO! STOP! DON'T! JUST KILL ME ALREADY! DON'T BURN ME! DON'T SKIN ME! JUST LET ME DIE! PLEASE! PLEASE!"

The three men escorting Dean to the waiting ambulance look at each other in unison. They quicken their pace as Dean continues to struggle against the straps on the gurney. They watch as his eyes move back and forth, as tears well up in them and silently track down through the blood and grime on his face. They hear him groan. A gut wrenching groan of emotional pain. As they load Dean into the back of the ambulance, they all wonder the same exact thing. What has happened to this guy? Steve informs Richard through a very short conversation that the police will be arriving soon and that they would like him to stick around to give them a statement about what he witnessed. Richard nods and then watches Steve and Perry disappear into the vehicle and speed away, complete with sirens and lights.

Richard, feeling overcome by what he has seen in such a short period of time, feels the onset of exhaustion and the distinct pang of sadness. He heads back towards the street and shuffles through the small crowd of people that always seem to gather when an emergency vehicle is around. He ignores their questions and comments and leans up against the front window of the drugstore where he waits quietly for the police to arrive. He his brought back from his thoughts by the rumbling sound of a car engine. He looks up to see the most beautiful car, seemingly out of place at the moment, this moment that seems so dreary and dark. He watches as the car slows to a stop and a tall, young man exits the vehicle and seems to head right over to him.

"Excuse me sir? Sorry to bother you but did an ambulance just pull away from here?" Sam sees the stranger nod in agreement. He also notices that the man seems to be shaken up. He feels guilt for just starting in on him when he obviously is having trouble. "I'm sorry, are you okay sir? You seem kind of shaken up?" Another nod. "Okay, well, this might sound odd but you wouldn't happen to know who was in there would you? You see, I am on the search for my brother and haven't had any luck so far in finding him. I don't know, I am probably totally overreacting but I just have a nagging feeling in my gut that he's in trouble. Would you know what happened here?"

Richard feels an instant warmth towards this man, this stranger. "Yeah, some poor guy was beaten up pretty good. I didn't see who did it but I found him in the alley right over there sometime after it had happened. He was pretty out of it, so I called 911 and the paramedics just left with him. I'm just waiting around for the police to come so I can make a statement. It was just so awful, this young guy, maybe a bit older than you, all beat up, and so confused. I just wanted to help him but he was so lost. Wasn't making any sense. Kept trying to convince me that he was fine. That he is always fine. Such a shame, I really feel badly about what happened to him tonight but, and I know it sounds crazy because I only spoke with him for a little while, I just know that he has had an awful go of it. Just by the way he talks about himself. Like he isn't worth saving. God, how can someone actually feel that way about themselves? And get this. There he is, laying broken and beaten on the pavement and he looks to me and asks ME if I am okay? Absolutely incredible you know?" Now it's Richard's turn to look into the other man's face, to see that he now seems to be just as shaken up as he is. Oops. "I'm sorry for babbling, did I upset you...? Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Oh sorry, of course. My name is Sam." Sam looks at the man and swears he turns white right in front of his eyes. "Are you okay? Sir?"

"Oh my God. Sam you say?" Richard sees a nod. "Are you?" Pause. "Are you Sammy?"

Huh, it's amazing. It's amazing how one little question can change absolutely everything. This one question has just confirmed that yes indeed, Dean had found trouble again, and that yes, he was just taken away by that ambulance. Dean. Damn it.

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey all! First of all, let me just say thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read this, as always it is very much appreciated! Thanks to all who commented, reviewed and made suggestions on the story. I hope that you will stick around and see where this adventure ends up. Feel free to throw some more thoughts and comments my way, it's great stuff! Thanks again and I hope you enjoy! :) **

Shit. Just moments ago, Sam had held out hope that maybe there was someone else out there who happens to act exactly like his brother. That it wasn't Dean that this man described, just someone who had all the same attitudes and mannerisms of his older brother. Sure, it may have been the most minuscule speck of hope, but it was still there. At least it was. Until he heard that one little word. Sammy. Damn it. There is no one else. Not anyone on this entire planet that could say it without being on the receiving end of one of those famous Sam stares. No one else. Except Dean.

Sam's brain runs a mile a minute. Okay, so this man is obviously upset by what he has seen. By the condition that he saw Dean in. And sure, that's disturbing enough but, even more so is how he also knows certain things about Dean. He knows that he always asks about others before himself, he knows about how Dean thinks he never needs help. Or deserves it. And he must have been there, must have heard Dean use the name. Sammy. The name, which can be and has been used in various non emergency situations in the past, like when Dean wants to irk his younger brother or to alert him to when things are going wrong. But, on this occasion, Dean used it when his brother wasn't even there. His big, stubborn brother had used that name, called him by it when he wasn't able to hear him. Dean had called out to him. Had needed his little brother for something. And that is never a good sign. As the thoughts tumble through his head, as his mind continues to race over all the possibilities of what could have happened in that stupid back alley, Sam concludes that all of these things together add up to one thing. Dean is not himself. Dean is injured. Dean is in trouble. And he knows. Sam knows that, above all else, when Dean is in that state of mind and body, the one thing that can keep him grounded and make him feel safe is his brother. His Sammy. Sam lets out a rush of air and shakes his head. "God Dean. What did you get yourself into now? Why does this shit always happen to you bro? Hang on Dean, just hang on, I'm coming to get you. I'm coming."

Sam looks again to the stranger and feels that he has been watched very intently. This is the one person who can get him where he needs to go. "You're talking about Dean. That guy you found, his name is Dean right?" Sam watches the other man nod. "Dean, my brother. He just got loaded onto that bus didn't he?" Another nod. "And he's hurt right? And not making much sense?" One more nod. "Okay, so my brother needs me and I need to get to him. Fast. I need to get to that hospital. Can you point me in the right direction?" Sam sees another nod. Just hang on Dean.

**Hospital**

Steve and Perry stand at the nurse's station, each taking a moment to calm their nerves, to gather their thoughts. "Man Steve, this guy. He is really messed up isn't he? I don't even think I have ever had nightmares like that." Perry slowly shakes his head as he looks towards the room that Dean now occupies. "What he was describing? Where he thought he was? How can someone survive living in that kind of state? With that kind of madness? God, it's just... I don't know, It's just, unbelievable."

Steve doesn't respond at first, just continues to stare down at his hands as they rest on the counter. He then exhales a shaky sigh. "Yeah man, I hear ya. I was hoping it was just the injuries that were making him say those things but, I just don't think so, it's like he really thinks he lived through that. I just hope he can get the help he needs now. That he can stop the nightmares that roam around in his mind, that it can shut off." Pause. "They will help him Perry. We just have to believe that he is where he needs to be, that this is the first step on his road to getting better. At least with the wounds on his wrists they can keep..."

Their discussion is abruptly brought to an end, cut short by a piercing scream. A scream coming from that room. Dean's room. Dean's scream. "NOOOOO! STOP! PLEASE! LET ME GO! GOD! I GOTTA GO! CAN'T STAY HERE! GET YOUR PAWS OFF OF ME!" Both the paramedics feel a shiver run through them at the sound. They sense the panic, the desperation in that voice. The fear. They look towards the origin of the sound and notice that every single person within earshot, at that moment, they all have their eyes towards that room. Dean's room.

Steve can't help but move towards the sound, can't help but walk right up to and peer into that room. As Perry comes up along side him, he hears his partner mutter a quiet expletive and he himself feels a lump rise in his throat. He can't tear his eyes away as he observes Dean thrashing around on the examination table, wide eyed and scared out of his wits. Then he notices it. The reason for the scream. The reason why this patient is having such a strong and vocal reaction to the doctors and nurses who are trying to help him. They are trying to tie him down. To the table. Steve has to try and do something to help, he can't just stand back and watch as they do the one thing that seems to terrify this man the most. He glances to Perry and they lock eyes for a moment. Steve gives his partner a nod, opens the door and walks in.

As he walks through the door, Steve sees every member of the staff track their eyes over to where he stands. Before they have a chance to tell him to get the hell out, he raises a hand to stop them short. "Look, I know, I shouldn't be here, I should get going but please, let me try and talk to him. This, what you are doing right now, the restraints? Bad idea, trust me. Just let me try okay?" He waits for a nod and approaches the table once he gets one. He smiles slightly at the doctor and moves in to stand right beside the table. "Dean? Hey, Dean? It's Stevie. From the ambulance. Remember?" He watches as the man on the table slows his movements and turns his glassy gaze in his direction. "Hi there. Look, these people are trying to help you. I brought you here Dean and you know I wouldn't let you go into the hands of anyone that would hurt you right?" Steve watches Dean's eyes look at him, then watches them dart around the room, watches them stop on each individual person to see what each one of them is doing. His eyes then travel towards his own body and to the table. Dean's eyes lock onto the table, specifically to the restraints that are attached to it. "Hey Dean, just look at me. Keep looking at me. I'll stay with you while these folks work on getting you bandaged and cleaned up. Just, please, try and stay calm. They won't use the restraints if you keep yourself calm. Okay? Can you do that for me?" He waits for Dean's response and when he detects the slightest of nods Steve glances up and looks the head doctor in the eye. "Ok Doc, better make it quick." Steve looks back down towards Dean. "Just hang in there man, just focus on me and it'll all be over soon."

Steve feels a bit surprised at the speed in which the doctor and nurses work. He hears them talk softly and slowly, as if they are tiptoeing around a sleeping bear. They clean the wounds on Dean's face, his head, and his neck and all the while Dean's eyes are fixated on Steve. Those eyes seem to concentrate on one spot only, and Steve feels like they are boring a hole right through him. He can't help but feel unnerved by the intense and unwavering gaze, like he is the one fixed point in this place that keeps Dean calm and grounded. As he stares into Dean's eyes, It's like Steve can see right into this man's soul, feel the scope of torment contained within this stranger. This man, on this table, is alive yes, living and breathing, but his eyes look dead. Like the spark of life that should be present in them has been extinguished, and all that remains is darkness. Darkness that comes when eyes have seen too much, been witness to such horrors and tragedy and fear that they are dull and empty. The kind of darkness that can only exist in a damaged and deeply wounded mind. Steve blinks rapidly a few times and shakes himself out of the trance he has immersed himself in.

"You're doing great Dean. They just need to check your ribs and then your wrists and you'll be done okay? Then you can have a nice rest. Are you going to be able to keep calm Dean?" Steve watches and sees that now familiar smirk of Dean's appear on his face. He leans in a bit closer. "What did I do to amuse you this time?"

"Stevie, you need to chill dude. I think maybe you are the one that needs to keep calm. Are you gonna be okay? Are you nervous to be here? Its okay, just between you and me, I kinda hate these places too." Pause. "Relax man, calm is my middle name. Well, it's usually adventure or maybe daredevil or something a tad more exciting, but I will change it to calm for today. Just for you Stevie cuz you ain't half bad. I think you look more out of place than I do right now though dude, I've been in places like this alot. Scars upon scars upon scars. Concussions. Car Accidents. Near death experiences. All enjoyed by me in a facility such as this. So please, no need to worry about me. No need to get all touch-feely on my account. I'm fine Stevie. Always fine. Yeah, I can keep calm. Don't worry about me." Pause. "I just want this to be over with, I hate being poked and prodded and examined when there is nothing wrong with me. But, if it makes you all feel better then hey, who am I to piss on your feel good about yourself parade? It's just, it's been a long day you know? Just need to have a nap, catch up on some sleep. God, I feel like I haven't slept for a year."

"Hey, Stevie? Come closer." Steve leans in so his head is right beside Dean's. He notices that his voice has lowered as if he is divulging some kind of secret in this hospital room. "I just want to have a sleep, and then find Sammy and then we can get back on the road, get back to the hunt you know? Times a wastin' and time is something none of us and none of you have. Gotta stop them. Gotta stop them all. The monsters. The ghosts. The demons. They are everywhere and can be anyone you know? No one is safe. But, me and Sam? We'll stop them. Don't worry Stevie, we'll keep you safe. Like we always do. Just gotta get out of here and back on the hunt." Steve sees Dean's brow crinkle as if in deep thought. "Huh, speaking of Sam, where is he anyways? No offence man but he is usually the one who has to hold my hand while I get a splinter taken out of my ass, always hovering like the mother hen he is. Have you seen him? Is he hurt? Did you find him? Is he alright?" Pause. "Stevie? Is Sam alright? I gotta look after him. It's my job. To protect him. Why isn't he here? Where is he Stevie?"

Dean's eyes search into his for the answer but Steve finds he has none to offer. "Um, well, I haven't found him yet Dean but I am sure he will be here soon. And, I'm sure he is alright. You just worry about yourself right now okay man?" Steve looks again to the doctor. "Time to bind some ribs Doc, and we really need to hurry, he needs to get finished here and up to a room so he can sleep. He needs to sleep." He meets the doctor's gaze and makes it clear by looks alone that Dean is ready to crash, and not going to be cooperative for much longer. Steve helps Dean sit up and they continue their back and forth banter while his ribs are bound. "Okay Dean, just the wrists to go and you can sleep. Remember, just focus on me okay, keep your focus on me." Well, they almost made it but, the wrists, those are apparently the touchy-feely issue of the day for Dean. As soon as the doctor goes to re-bandage the wounds on one of his arms, the sleeping bear awakens and that particular hospital room is thrown into a frenzy of utter chaos.

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! Here is the latest in the saga of Dean having a really bad day. I can't thank you enough for taking the time to read my little story. Thanks a bunch to those who have commented, it really motivates me to continue on. I hope that you will enjoy this chapter. Thanks again! :)**

Chaos. Yup, that's a good word for it. For what went on in that little room in that hospital. In Dean's room. One second things were going fine, Steve had kept Dean grounded, talked to him throughout the process of having his wounds cleaned and his ribs bandaged. But, Steve had sensed that Dean's mind was turning back to the darkness when he began to talk once again about monsters and ghosts and demons. He knew that time was ticking away and that the bomb was getting closer and closer to going off. And, it turned out that all it took to ignite the fuse was one little touch to his wrist. Next thing he knew, Steve was being pushed to the side, Dean was off the table and looked to be in full defensive mode. He had flown around the room and grabbed the most lethal looking instrument off one of the trays. Of course he had taken something with a blade, something that would keep the people holding him there at bay.

Dean is now up against one of the walls, swiping wildly at anyone who gets within a few feet of him. "Okay, nobody come any closer. You just don't listen do you? I am FINE damn it! I. I don't need your help. Now look what you made me do! God, can't you just leave me alone? Let me out of here and then you can help someone who needs it okay? I don't. I AM FINE! I don't wanna hurt you, I just want to leave. Please, why can't you understand, I can't stay! I need to go! Gotta get back to the hunt! Back to Sammy. Back to protecting all of you! You don't even know! You don't even know what is out there, just waiting to kill you! You have no clue, you just... you just... don't. Let me go!"

Sam pulls up to the hospital, parks at the first spot he sees and flies out of the Impala, focused on nothing else but getting to his wounded brother. The man he had spoken to, Richard was it?, seemed genuinely concerned about Dean but what worried Sam was that Richard seemed most upset not about Dean's physical injuries but moreso about his mental state. Sam knows that can not be good. For a total stranger to see that side of Dean only ups the level of concern Sam starts to feel in his gut. As he jogs up to the building, he feels so worked up and full of adrenaline that he can't even remember the short drive it took to get there. He just needs to find Dean, to see him, to make sure that he is alright and to get him the hell out of there. Whatever patch work his brother needs, Sam is sure he can finish it up at the motel.

As he races through the sliding doors and into the emergency room, the younger brother feels his nerves beginning to fray. Just how much more of this kind of shit can his older sibling take? Sam notices a lot of activity and hustle and bustle around him. Sure, it's an emergency room and that should be expected but still, there are people scurrying around and the the doctors and nurses look like they are overworked and on edge. He heads towards the nearest counter to inquire about Dean but stops short when he notices a large group of people, of onlookers, staring into one of the examination rooms. He ponders for a moment about what could be going on in there and as he continues his march to the desk, the door to the room opens up and a nurse calls out for someone to come and help, that they need security in there now! Man, it sure would be rough to work in this place, to never know who you'll have to deal with or what sort of situations will come your way. Hmm, that sounds kind of familiar actually but no thanks, I'll stick to killing monsters thank you very much. Whatever is going on in there, it is producing a lot of commotion and Sam feels more determined than ever to find his brother, get out of there, back to the motel and find out who or what Dean had provoked this time around. Hell, they may even have a laugh or two, Dean is always good at telling and exaggerating stories where he is involved.

As Sam waits for some asistance at the counter, he sees a couple of big security type men head down the hall, towards that room, and his eyes follow them as they move. He has a fairly good vantage point from where he is and continues to stare as the men move through the crowd and force the onlookers to the sides. As the door opens, Sam peers in to see just what is up in there, and feels his heart jump into his throat. What? That can't be. Please, I have got to be seeing things. His brother, Dean, is waving around some kind of scalpel-y thing, in a threatening pose, swiping this way and that as people, nurses and doctors Sam assumes, approach him from various sides. God Dean, what the hell are you doing? How did you get to this? Abandoning his post at the counter, Sam reaches the room in a few strides and forces his way through to the very front of the line of gawkers. He sees his brother sporting a look in his eyes that screams I'm a caged animal, be mindful and keep your distance. Sam takes in his appearance, complete with swollen eye, bandaged ribs, and ...what? His wrists? What is up with that? Are they? Are they cut? Have his wrists been cut? What the hell? Sam shakes himself out of his fog and enters the room. "DEAN!"

The reaction is instant. Dean stops dead, looks up to the door and flashes a grin. "Sammy?" The grin widens as it registers to the older Winchester that yes, his baby brother is actually there. "Sammy! Thank God! You have got to tell these people that I'm okay, they just need to leave me alone. Please Sammy, you need to get me the hell out of here! Please!" As Dean keeps his focus only on his brother, the nurses, the doctors, Steve and the burly security guards all take the moment to make their move. The guards are on Dean before he or his brother can bat an eye. They hold him securely against the wall and easily remove the weapon from his grasp.

Sam continues to stare in a daze as the scene unfolds before him. His brother, his strong, stubborn brother is desperately trying to free himself from the hands that hold him. The younger of the two brothers sees a myriad of emotions play across Dean's face. Relief. That Sam is there. Fear. Of being confined. Anger. Of being treated like there is something wrong with him. Desperation. To get out of that place. Now.

"Hey! Woah guys, just let him go. He won't hurt anyone, he's okay." Sam moves to get closer to Dean but is halted by one of the staff. "Look buddy, that is my brother over there and he needs me. I don't know what has gone on here but I do know that I can help calm him down. I can help." The man in his way looks to others in the room and moves to the side only when they give him nonverbal consent to let him pass. As he approaches, Sam catches out of the corner of his eye a nurse rush to another area of the room, grab a vial and syringe and fill it as she walks back to the scene. He sees and hears a paramedic talk softly to his older brother, about how he needs to relax, how he had promised to keep calm, how he needs help, that he has to stop fighting them, that they are only trying to help. Sam reaches his brother and cringes at the fact that Dean's oh so valued personal space rule has been violated by at least three other dudes. Dean's gaze shows only fear and uncertainty and, by the way his chest continues to rise and fall rapidly, Sam knows that Dean is also on the verge of total panic mode. Restraining his big brother. Bad idea. God, what has happened to him in just a few short hours?

Sam gives his best 'Cmon, let him go' glare to the security men holding his brother and lets out a deep sigh when the only thing his stare is greeted with is two heads shaking a firm no in his direction. Okay, not letting you go just now I guess. Sam needs to calm his brother down and decrease the tension level by oh, a few, or maybe by a few hundred notches. "Dean? Hey bro, what the hell happened to you? Are you alright? Sheesh, I can't even let you go out alone just to pick up some beer? I mean really dude, I was on the verge of total dehydration back there. I guess I'm gonna have to be your chaperone from now on huh? It might be a bit awkward on those dates of yours but we'll make it work. Okay man, just keep your cool and let me talk to the doctors. I'm sure we can get out of here in no time." He sees a smirk flutter across his older brother's face and can't help but smile himself as he hears Dean utter a soft but familiar phrase to him. 'Yeah, sounds good...bitch'. Sam can never let that go without a response of his own. "Okay jerk, just behave for a second."

Sam turns to face the doctor and lays on his best puppy dog eyes. "Listen, my name is Sam, this is my brother. I don't really know what events have taken place here but by the looks of him, I don't think it is doing Dean any good to be here. So, I can just give his insurance information, fill out any paperwork that you need and then we'll be out of your way. Don't worry, I can take care of him myself."

Dean's voice floats over to give his brother an extra boost of confidence. "Yeah! That's my S'mmy... you tell him bro! Don't take any shit from these quacks! We don't need them right? You and me, we'll be alright as long as we're together."

The doctor sighs, shakes his head slightly and looks into Sam's gaze. "Sam, look, I'm sorry but your brother is not going anywhere. He is going to be admitted and placed under observation. He is very ill and in his best interest we are obligated to keep him under our supervision. He is not in his right mind and needs to stay here."

What? "No Shit he's not in his right mind! Look what you people are doing to him! He needs me, I am the only one who can calm him down when he's like this. You can not force him to stay here. I am leaving with him. Now." As Sam continues his stand-off with this man, he sees him nod to someone standing behind him. As he turns to follow the nod, he sees several things happen at once.

The guards tighten their grip on Dean up against the wall, the nurse with the syringe heads over to the paramedic, who takes the shot from the nurse and Sam swears he hears him mutter something to Dean about how this will make him feel better. And then, before Sam can even yell out some kind of warning to his older brother, the medic administers the shot into his older brother. Sam watches helplessly as his brother turns up the panic level. "NOOOOOO! Ged off me! Steve? Why? can't stay... please... what... what did you do... can't...can't...think... p..p..please... st..stop... sam... smm... don'go... h...h...help... mmmmee..." The younger Winchester keeps his eyes glued to Dean in horror as his eyes glaze over, his legs start to give and the only thing keeping him from doing a faceplant to the floor are the arms of the guards on each side of him. The two men lead Dean over to the exam table and place him on it without incident. Sam feels his own panic mode start up. God. Drugs and Dean. Perfect.

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi folks! Here is the latest chapter, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks once again for all your comments and for taking time to take a peek into what my imagination comes up with, I really appreciate it! Feel free to review and comment if you are so inclined. Enjoy! :) **

As the guards step back from the table, Sam is over to Dean in a heartbeat. He leans over and speaks to him in a gentle, calm and soft voice. "Dean? Dean, can you hear me bro? What did they do to you?"

The younger Winchester turns his head and glares at the guards, then at the paramedic, then the doctors and finally the nurses. He delivers his best dose of majorly pissed off Sam vibes to each and every one of them individually. He feels his breath speed up, his anger start to rise and his blood begin to boil. "What the hell did you do to him? What did you shoot him up with?" Silence. "Someone better start talking damn it or I will be the next one you will have to deal with!" Sam feels a slight flutter on his arm. Dean. Sam's attention heads back to his older brother and he sees him gaze up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"Smmm... shhhhhh... y..you ooook? d...don'...worry... I.. I'm... g.. good... f..f..f..feel fine... now...heads fuzzy...nice... can't think... good... shhhhhh... we... we'll... be... oooook... r..right?" Sam sees his brother try and give him a famous Dean style grin but it looks more like a grimace, like not even that part of him is working properly at the moment.

"Yeah man, of course. We are always okay, can't keep us down and out right? Don't worry, I am going to get you out of this place and back with me. I'll take care of you Dean, you can trust me." A small smirk graces his brother's face and then Dean closes his eyes. Sam feels shock. How can this be happening? What in the world do these people think they are doing? How am I going to get Dean out of here? As Sam continues to contemplate the overload of images and events he has just bore witness to, he detects movement come from the paramedic, and then feels a hand on his arm. Sam shrugs out of the hold with as much hatred as he can muster and turns to look into the man's eyes.

"Sam, my name is Steve, I was one of the paramedics who was called out to help your brother. I know that you're upset but try not to worry, he's fine, we just gave him a mild sedative to relax him a bit. To calm him down. He has had a rough time of it and we didn't want him to get hurt or for him to hurt anyone else." Sam just keeps up the glare. Boy, tough crowd. "It will just give all of us time to discuss our next course of action. I think maybe we all just need to take a breath, move out of earshot of your brother and talk about what he has gone through tonight. Do you think you can leave the room with me for a few minutes?"

Sam continues to stare at the man before him. "Look Steve, I appreciate that you are using all of your paramedic mojo on me right now and you are obviously quite good at what you do, but there is no way in hell that I am leaving Dean in this room alone with these people. I am staying here, and not letting him out of my sight so, if you want to talk, fine, but we are doing it here."

"Okay, fair enough Sam but we should let the doctors finish dressing Dean's wounds and checking him over. Let's just move a bit out of the way to let them work. Okay?" Sam takes a long look at his older brother whose appearance is that of a man just having a snooze, so he looks to Steve and with a nod of his head, he leaves Dean's side and takes root up against the wall. The same wall where Dean had made his stand just a little while before. This whole thing just doesn't seem real. Steve follows Sam and leans against the wall beside him. Sam does not look in his direction but rather keeps his focus and eyes solely on his brother and watches as the staff gather up the dressings and other equipment they will need to redress the wounds on his wrists. Damn it Dean, where did you get those?

"Okay buddy, here we are. So, start talking." Sam waits to hear Steve's response but finds his attention is once more drawn to his older brother. Amazing. Here is Dean, pumped up with drugs, who just moments ago could barely formulate a word let alone a coherent thought, actually trying to stop those people from touching his wrists. He starts to moan and whimper and Sam sees his chest start to rise and fall again at a faster and faster rhythm. Sam will be damned if he is going to let his brother get into a full-blown panic again. Dean. Such a stubborn ass. Sam storms back over to the table and grabs the dressing out of the nurses hands. "I need to do it." As his brother's movements begin to gain momentum, Sam eyes the other nurse as she heads back over for that damned syringe. She stops as she feels his stare upon her. "I can keep him calm, I can get the job done. You are NOT going to get near him again with that poison so you better back the hell up right now miss." Sam can sense the guards get their, well, guard up so he raises up his hands to them. "Relax fellas, you don't need to get all your testosterone in a knot, I'm not going to do anything. Without waiting for a response, Sam eases beside Dean and starts speaking to him again. "Hey Dean, what's all the fuss about? Why don't you just try and get some rest, some sleep while I patch up these wounds okay bro? You just let me worry about you and fix you up for a change okay? I'll be sure to try and keep you as pretty as always so you don't drive away the ladies. What do ya say?"

"Smmy? still..here? yeah, I...could sleep... thanks smmm... smm.. watch the face... dude... huh..."

"Sure, sure Dean. Now, relax okay and let me work my magic. You have a nap and I'll get this done." The younger brother waits until Dean's breaths even out and looks back up to the hospital staff in the room. "Please, believe me, I can keep him calm, I can do this. Just let me take care of this. Unless you want to provoke another fight or flight response from him, you will let me do this." C'mon, just say yes damn it.

It's a doctor's voice he hears next. "Sorry Sam. It's obvious that you have a soothing effect on your brother and you are welcome to stay close to him, to talk to him, to keep him from becoming agitated while we work on him, but we can not allow you to perform any medical procedures. That has to be done by licensed medical staff. We will work quickly to clean and redress his wrists and then he will be moved into another part of the hospital where he will be monitored and looked after as his injuries heal." Sam isn't surprised at the refusal, it seems logical that someone off the street shouldn't be well bred on the art of stitches and dressing wounds. Huh, if they only knew this is such a minor thing, that the brothers have had to patch each other up from much worse ailments than these.

The doctor keeps on talking. And Sam keeps on listening. And keeps on getting more and more pissed off and worried about how exactly he is going to swing getting Dean out of this joint. "He has taken quite a beating Sam but has also shown numerous signs of mental distress. Delusions, delirium, incoherence, paranoia and lack of lucidity. And yes, I know, some of these could be caused by the physical trauma he has sustained, but we need to determine if he himself was responsible for the state of his wrists. He needs to speak to our psychiatric staff so we can determine if he needs further care in another facility."

What? Oh no, no, no, NO! No way is he going to be taken to another 'facility'. He's not crazy damn it! If these people only knew what his brother has gone through, they wouldn't have the balls to suggest such a thing. If they only knew. Sam doesn't want to make matters worse for Dean and doesn't want to be banned from seeing him so he decides to relent a bit. He needs some time to figure out what his next move should be. Sam rises, and stands in front of the doctor, so he is almost nose to nose with the man. "I can't believe for a moment that Dean would hurt himself. He has too much pride for that. He's too stubborn and wouldn't want to be a burden to anyone. I will agree to him staying here to heal his physical wounds and if you insist he can talk to the bloody psychiatrist but I am telling you right now doctor, he will not be heading off to some loony bin. He is not crazy and he will prove it to you when he is feeling a bit more himself." Sam hopes that his voice doesn't betray the anxiety he feels. This is just not a good situation. Sam needs a few more details to go on. "I would like to know what delusions you are talking about. What do you mean by that?"

"I believe I can offer a little more detail on that Sam." The younger brother turns towards the voice and finds himself facing Steve. "I don't think I have experienced anything like it before, and it's not like I just started in this field. He was talking about so many things. All of them disturbing. Hell. Monsters. Demons. Ghosts. That the two of you hunt them to keep the rest of us safe. When we were riding to the hospital he was not doing well in a mental sense. He fought me when I tried to tie him to the gurney, he called me by the name of Alistair, said he didn't want to burn again. That he didn't want me to peel his flesh away from the bone. To just let him die. It was unbelievable. I just, I just got the feeling that at that moment he was actually experiencing those images as if he was reliving them. Like someone who suffers from post traumatic stress disorder, except the things he spoke of Sam, of course they could never have happened." Steve stops speaking and looks at Sam's face, trying to gauge his reaction. It's just so weird, if he didn't know better he would say that Dean's brother doesn't look surprised. At all. As if on cue, as if he can sense his thoughts, Sam shakes his head and looks to the floor.

"Of course they aren't real. By the looks of him he got a good whack or two on that hard head of his so I am thinking that is all it is. Just confused and concussed and unable to have clear thoughts about what's going on. I know he will have a rational explanation for those damned wrists of his." Keep your cool Sam. God, this just keeps getting worse and worse. Dean actually talked about those things? To perfect strangers yet? Boy, he must really have gotten the shit beat out of him for that to happen. "Probably just reliving a nightmare he had or something. Those knocks on the head really can do a number huh?" Breathe Sam, just breathe, you will figure a way out of this. "So, can we get on with the repair job and get him somewhere a little less intimidating than in a room with 5 or 6 strangers?"

"Of course, let's get to work." As the doctors and nurses get down to business fixing up Dean's battered body, Sam places himself at the head of the table, whispering to his older brother the entire time. He feels relieved that his brother remains asleep, no moves, no mutters, no whimpers, just sleep. The repair work done, the staff gets ready to move Dean to his room. Sam feels tense and on edge and his mind swims. "Sam?" He turns to Steve. "Look, Dean is going to be taken up to his room now. I know that you are anxious and upset and stressed, hell, so am I, it has been quite a day. Please try and trust me when I say this is the very best thing for your brother right now. He looks to be sleeping well and he needs his rest." Sam can't deny the fact. The fact that Dean has to stay here, at least for now. Now all his baby brother has to figure out is how he's gonna break him out of here, before the psychiatrists have a field day with him. He could keep them employed forever. His case would be one for the books. No, make that several dozen books.

"Okay man, okay." Please just get some sleep Dean. Some rest. Please, be back to the stubborn, pain-in-the-ass, there's nothing wrong with me, anti sharing and caring big brother that usually pisses me off to no end self when you wake up. Please.

**TBC...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone! Here is another chapter for you to peruse. Let me just say to you all... THANK YOU! I am so thrilled to be getting such wonderful feedback, I can't tell what a huge inspiration your fabulous comments are to me! They sure do keep me motivated to continue. I hope as always that this chapter is to your liking. Feel free to keep those comments coming, they are SUPERCALAFRAGALISTIC! :-)**

What a night. And now, as morning looms outside, as the sun begins to make it's appearance, and as it starts to make a steady rise to confirm that a new day has indeed begun, Sam watches it's assent through the window in silence, and ponders what kind of a day it will be. He runs a hand down his face, leans back in his chair and lets out a deep sigh. Sam gets up, makes his way to the window, stretches and feels thankful that at least he was allowed to stay with Dean through the night. Sure, it took a bit of sweet talking on his part but hey, he is a master at that. As he rubs his neck he feels the stiffness within it, within his back, hell, within every joint in his body. He assumes he must have dozed off here and there while he kept vigil beside Dean. After he sat all night on the most uncomfortable chair ever invented. Geez, would it be so incredibly difficult to spend a few more bucks to get an at least somewhat cozy chair in here? After all, you would think that there would be a lot of people who sit around and wait in these stupid places. Sam lets out another deep sigh. Okay man, just focus.

After Sam watches the sun complete it's journey into the morning sky, he returns to his chair, or rather to the piece of plywood on legs that he has called home all night, and sits again. As he sits there, by Dean's side, in Dean's room, in the psych ward of this damned hospital, he stares down at his sleeping brother. How many times Dean? How many times are we going to go through this? How many times are we going to be here, in this exact same position, with you lying in a hospital bed unconcious while your baby brother paces around the room and wonders what in the hell is going on with you? Unbelieveable. I mean, the psych ward? Why does this always happen to you Dean? It's like you are cursed or something. Sam hears himself let out a tiny giggle. Nope, scratch that. You are a Winchester right? So, I guess it isn't a curse, it is just the inevitable isn't it?

Sam's mind begins to wind up again. As his gaze remains firmly onto his brother's face, he speaks to him softly. "It's so weird though, at this moment you look so peaceful. Relaxed. Well, relaxed might not be quite the right term. Well, maybe it would be except for the black eye and the scratched up neck and the bruised ribs and those cut up wrists. Even I am having a hard time with that last one bro. I don't know. I mean, I don't think you would do that but you have been through so much, and you keep yourself, your feelings and emotions so deeply buried that I don't think you have even let me see anything but just the very surface of all the pain, of all the suffering that you have had to endure." Sam feels his eyes start to mist over as he recalls the night when he lost his brother. When he was dragged down to Hell. "In the pit and out, you're always in pain, always facing one demon or another aren't you? I wish you would open up to me, let me help you, that you would reach out to me when things get crazy, when you're mind won't shut off, when you can't control the images. You can trust me Dean. With anything. With everything. You're so busy looking after me that you have forgotten how to look after yourself." Pause. "But that's okay, that's why I'm here, when you are hurting so bad that you can't save yourself, I can do it for you. You are my brother Dean. Yeah, you're a pain in the ass and stubborn as anything and your choice in music sucks big time and well, I could go on but the point is that despite all of that, despite everything, I am here for you. In whatever way you want and need me to be. Please man, I don't think you have a choice anymore. You need to let me in."

Sam is brought out of his speech by the sound of the door as it opens. He really doesn't want to have to talk to anymore of those stupid doctors and gets ready to voice that exact opinion. When he turns to face the sound however he finds his eyes rest on two figures. But they are not doctors. No, just a good samaritan and a paramedic. Richard and Steve. They both stay right where they are, right inside the door, as they wait for Sam's approval to be in his space right now. Sam rises from his seat and makes his way to the odd looking duo. "Hey Richard. Hey Steve. What can I do for you?" Sam is surprised at how tired his voice sounds.

"Hey Sam, we just wanted to stop by and see how you are doing. And Dean too. Don't take this the wrong way but you look like shit Sam. It has been a very long night for you hasn't it?" Sam senses genuine concern come from Steve but finds the paramedic is quite talented in the art of the understatement. "Did you want to go out for a coffee or something? Dean is probably going to be waking up soon and I am sure you will want to be here when that happens. What do ya say?" Sam is amazed. God, it just doesn't matter. Big brothers, good samaritans, damn paramedics. It just seems everyone he ever comes in contact with needs to constantly make sure he's alright, always has to look after him. Just stop it already.

"You know what Steve? Why don't you and Richard go out and have a coffee and chat about what kind of shitty night the both of you have had?" Sam feels his tension level rise and just can't fight it this time, he is tired of people always being so concerned about his well-being. What good has that ever done? "I am fine right here. I am not leaving this stupid room until I have a chance to speak with my brother, in private, alone, so I can find out where his mind is at before the crazy police of the hospital come and have a go at him." Sam takes a deep breath. And another. And his voice sounds calm and sincere when he speaks again. "Look guys, I don't think I told either of you how much I truly appreciate all that you did for Dean last night. And for me. You really are genuinely nice dudes and that is hard to find these days. I mean it. Really, who knows how much worse of a condition Dean would be in if you two hadn't come along but please, try to understand this. My brother and I have been looking out for each other our entire lives and I know for a fact that if I was the one laying in that bed, there would be no chance in hell that Dean would leave me. So don't ask again okay? I like you guys but I am feeling a bit tired and stressed and know that I am running low on patience. I really don't want to get pissed off at you. Not after you have been so good to the both of us. Okay?"

Sam sees Steve nod but Richard's voice is the one he hears. "Yeah, that's no problem Sam, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I just haven't been able to get Dean or you out of my head since all of this occurred last night. I don't know why but I felt compelled to come and tell you something." Pause. "Your brother. Dean. I could tell, even though he wasn't doing too well the last time I saw him, I could tell that you and he are very close. Even as he was fighting the images in his mind, as he was fighting the physical pain that he must have been in, throughout all of it, he kept asking about you. Kept calling for you. Asked me if you were okay, if you were hurt. Said he had to protect you, that it was his job, that he had to get to you and make sure you were alright. In the short time that I spent with him Sam it was so very obvious. I know without a doubt that you are the most important thing in his life." Richard looks at Sam and catches his eyes. "I just wanted you to know that."

Sam sighs again. There is just so much to sigh about with that statement. "Thanks for that Richard. Really. But, as nice as that sounds, as comforting as it is to have someone care about you that deeply, that fact is also Dean's one major weakness." Sam sees the question in the man's eyes and regrets making that particular comment. "Never mind, man. Just forget what I said, I am a little loopy from lack of sleep I think. I appreciate you telling me about that Richard, I do. I just, well, it's just that of all the unknowns in this world, of all the chaos and misery and ups and downs, Dean's loyalty and faith in me is the one thing that has never come into question. He has proven over and over and over again the very thing that you just mentioned. That I am the most important thing in his life. Above everyone else. Above him."

Sam looks back towards the bed and heads back to it when he hears his brother begin to rustle. His gaze travels quickly back to the door and he silently thanks the two men for escaping back into the hall, saving him from having to ask them to leave. "Hey Dean, it's Sam. Just relax bro, you are doing fine, just take your time and when you're ready open your eyes." Okay, showtime. Dean has never, ever reacted well to being confined to a hospital bed but, add on to that the fact of what area of the hospital he is in and there is no telling what version of Dean you are going to wind up with. Sam observes him. He sees that he is trying to pull himself out of his sleep, to follow the voice of his younger brother. His eyelids flutter, his injured eye doing it's best to join in, and as he blinks himself into wakefulness Sam instantly feels the familiar surge of panic rise within his older sibling. "Listen Dean, don't work yourself up okay? Listen to me. Yes, you are in a hospital. You were brought here last night after you took what looks to be a pretty substantial beating. Your eye is swollen, your ribs are bound and you have a gash on your neck..." Don't stop now Sam, just lay it all out for him. "...and on your wrists."

Of course, in typical Dean style, his older brother goes right into protection mode. "Smmy? You okay? Did you get hurt too? Don't remember much. Ready to go right? We can get out of..." as Dean goes to lift himself up from the bed he grabs his head with his hand. "God, my head, what? Did you hit me over the head again? Bitch?"

Sam gently eases his brother back onto the bed and smiles at him. "Have I ever mentioned what a stubborn ass you are Dean? Yeah, I probably have but just in case you forgot. You Dean. Are. A. Stubborn. Ass. So stubborn in fact that I think if there was a stubborn ass club you would definitely be a shoe in for the president. Now just lay back down and take a minute or two to gather yourself." Sam watches Dean settled back onto the bed. "Okay, good job. I think you need to just rest for a few minutes. And then Dean. Then you and I are going to have a little chat."

**TBC...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello again! I'm back with another installment. I hope it is enjoyable, I had a fun time writing it. Angst, isn't it awesome! :-) I know I sound like a broken record sometimes but I feel the need to say it again... THANK YOU ALL... for your wonderful reviews, comments, for just riding along with me through this latest journey and taking time out to give this story a looksee. As always, I deeply appreciate it and would love to hear any thoughts you have on this chapter. Enjoy! Until next time! :)**

Dean does his best to relax, he does, but something feels off. Yeah, his head hurts like a son of a bitch, his ribs ache and he's sure he's got bruises upon bruises, not to mention only having one eye in fully functional condition which currently makes things look wonky, but still. Something else is off. Something else is not right. Something about him still being here makes him feel very uneasy and he feels himself thrust into defensive mode. Really, he has survived far worse injuries than these. What's a swollen eye here and some gashes and bruised ribs there? Harmless inconveniences compared to some of the doozies the brothers have withstood together. Hardly seems worth the time and effort to shack up in this joint, taking the doctors away from some poor sap who actually does need help. This stuff is nothing his totally capable baby brother couldn't handle, maybe even with one hand tied behind his back. So what gives? Why are we still here? "Okay Sam. I'm rested now. All better. I'm good. Now let's get moving. You know I hate these places bro and something about this one is giving it a 20 on the 10 scale of creepiness."

Dean feels on edge when he hears his brother sigh and as he gazes upon Sam's face he can tell. His younger brother is on edge too. But why? What is Dean missing in this equation? His eyes glance around the room. It's so clean, so quiet, almost too quiet. Yeah, that's it, it is too damn quiet in here. Huh, there is a saying like that isn't there? A saying that people voice outloud and that occurs right before something bad happens? Too much quiet is just wrong, and bad. It's not right. Where is the constant interruptions by all those annoying nurses and doctors? In his experience, every hospital can't function without them. It's so damn odd. He's been a guest in these places far too many times for his liking but this time it seems so very different. It's just strange. Where are the sounds? Of people scurrying about in the hall? Where is that annoying beeping monitor designed specifically to piss the older Winchester off? Not there. There's just nothing. Nothing but the bed he is laying on, the chair Sam is sitting on and a bedside table. Weird.

His eyes look around again, over to every corner of the room. Okay, this has now been catapulted into the area of super weird. There isn't even a bathroom? So what, if a person needs to take a leak they gotta cry out for help from some damned nurse? What kind of room in a hospital doesn't even have a toilet? That's crazy! That. Is. Crazy. Oh no. Crazy? Dean feels his breaths come out more rapidly, his eyes dart around the room, and he just wants to wake the hell up. God No. No! I am not crazy!

Determined to get out and, as he decides that this is definitely somewhere he doesn't want or need to be, Dean moves again to get off of the bed. He knows Sam is right there, ready to push him back down but he just can't allow that to happen. Why is Sammy just sitting there? Why doesn't he help him? Why? If he doesn't escape right now he isn't sure he will have any strength left to try it again. This whole place, this whole situation screams Leave Now, While you Still Can!

"Don't touch me Sam. Don't. Just move. Let me get up damn it." He looks to his younger brother and sees the stress there. The worry. He manages to rise to a seated position and stares directly at Sam with questioning eyes. "Please Sammy, tell me. Why am I still here? I'm not hurt that bad. I'm fine. I'm awesome right? Always awesome and always fine? That's me! So please, let's just get out of here while we can, before they come." Pause. Dean lowers his voice when he speaks next. "They want to keep me here don't they? They think I'm crazy right? Well, I'm not crazy! It's all so fuzzy. I just can't think right now. Can't get my head around it. I'm all cloudy. I don't know exactly what happened but I sure as hell know what I need. I need to get out of here Sammy and back out on the road. I am not crazy. Right? You don't think I'm crazy do you Sammy? Not you. Right? Sammy?"

Dean waits. And waits a bit more. Sam doesn't even look at him now, he just holds his hands in his lap and stares at them. Dean can tell that he is contemplating again. Trying to come up with the right words, he always tends to overthink certain situations. But this particular situation? There should not be any hesitation, no contemplation to be done. The answer should be automatic. So, what the hell Sam? Why didn't you jump on the Dean isn't crazy bandwagon? You don't really have to deduce and ponder the sanity of your own brother do you? You can't possibly believe that he has flipped his lid, can you? That he's lost his marbles? His sanity? No Sam. Not you! "SAM!" The younger Winchester flinches at his brothers tone and looks up to face him. "What the hell? Why are you actually sitting there THINKING about your answer? Well here, let me help. I'll imitate you saying what should have come out of your mouth as naturally as your ability to perform the duty of mother hen does. Ready, maybe you should write this down? Here is the proper response to that kind of question Sam. _'Of course I don't think you're crazy Dean. The idea of that is well, a bit crazy. Hardy, har, har. Now, let's get outta here you good looking brother of mine and go kill some evil sons of bitches in the next town or something.'_ See Sammy? Not so hard right?"

Dean feels his pulse quicken. From fear? Or adrenaline? Or panic? Or maybe anger at his brother's lack of enthusiasm towards his plan to escape? Whatever the reason it makes his head start to throb. And throb. No, no, just relax. Don't make a scene, don't give them a reason to keep you here. But, I guess that would just be too damn simple. Instead, the throb continues, and gains momentum until he can no longer contain the gasp that has built up within him from escaping into the outside world. "God...did someone.. take a hammer...to my head? It's killin' me." His vision begins to blur, as if the pain now wants to take a shot at shutting down his other eye, to make it a matching pair of useless ocular senses. For now Dean can still see his brother, his Sammy, and also sees the concern and fear that his eyes contain. And the sight of that hurts. Cuts him to the core. His baby brother should not have to witness this. To see him out of control, in pain. C'mon Dean, be strong, keep your pain, don't share it. As if on cue, the blurriness increases and even so, he swears Sam is talking to him. He watches his mouth as it moves but no sound reaches his ears. Sam's voice is drowned out by the sound of the constant drum. The drum of Dean's blood as it pumps, faster and faster, through his veins. The older of the siblings squeezes his eyes shut in some sort of last ditch effort to halt it's progression. As he continues to struggle, to ride out his most current wave of agony, he feels the comforting touch of Sam's hand on his shoulder, followed by a gentle squeeze to accompany it. It has to stop. The pain, why is there always so much pain?

It doesn't seem possible but somehow, somewhere the agony that has taken root within his head seems to intensify. As his control falters, as his world turns upside down and he wishes that blackness would claim him just for a moment or two, the pain seems to stop. Not because he suddenly recovers, not because he wakes up and realizes it was all just a dream. No. The pain stops but is immediately replaced by another sensation conjured up by an injured mind. Because, at that moment, Dean starts to experience something within him which, simply put, extinguishes any ability for him to acknowledge even one rational thought.

Images. Dozens of them. They flash, in a continuous stream, a continuous frenzy, seen only by him. Behind Dean's eyes. Contained within Dean's mind. Flash. Dean is back on the rack in Hell. Flash. Dean is confronted by some losers in a back alley some where. Flash. Dean stares into the yellow eyes of his father, possessed and unleashing all of the demon's fury on the older Winchester son. Flash. Dean looks at his wrists and sees the blood ooze out of them. Flash. Dean tortures untold scores of souls to free himself from the rack. Flash. Hellhound, snarling as he waits to pounce. Flash. His mother, burning, dying. Flash. Sam's lifeless body.

He is helpless to stop them. He is forced, over and over again, to endure an unrelenting stream of nightmare after nightmare, image after image. Every moment of pain that has ever been seared into his psyche is shown to him by his own mind, and it unleashes the very deepest of the anguish he has spent every waking moment trying to bury within him. As he withstands and relives moment after moment, as his grip on reality has all but disappeared, the descent seems to have begun. The journey has started. The path that he now travels begins to take him down the slow and winding road. The spiral. Into madness.

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi everyone. Here is the next chapter. There is no Dean madness in this one, more just Sam's perspective on things and a little more interaction with Steve and Richard. As always, I hope you enjoy it and if you feel like you're in the mood to drop me a line with a comment or two then I would be thrilled!** **Happy Reading! :-)**

Sam watches his brother, eyes still closed, as he cringes away from the pain in his head. Sam moves forward, towards him, and keeps up a steady mantra of reassurances, but as he reaches out to clasp his shoulder and squeeze it in an attempt to comfort him, he doesn't think Dean can even hear him. In an instant however, all movements from his brother cease. The room is suddenly plunged into an eerie silence. Dean's body remains still for the briefest of moments and Sam leans in to look at him. His eyes don't open and Sam sees something that is just peculiar and out of place. As Sam watches his brother with an intense gaze, he can detect movement underneath his eyelids, as if he is now in the grips of a dream, as if he is suddenly in some sort of weird deep sleep. Sam can hear the rapid rhythm of Dean's breaths, and the younger Winchester does everything he can think of to help his brother. He gently shakes Dean and calls out his name in an effort to bring him out of it, out of whatever he now faces. But, his efforts are met by nothing, no response at all. Dean's eyes just continue to move and he appears to be trapped, unable to come up from the depths of whatever his mind has initiated. Sam starts to feel a surge of panic rise within him. This is not normal. This is not the Dean that he knows. Even in the darkest hours of his brother's life Sam has always been able to break through to him, to reach him on some level, to snap him back to the here and now. But this? This is starting to freak the younger sibling out like never before. Could all of this stuff that is going on be a result of just some knock to his head? Or is there something else at play here? Has it finally happened? Has Dean finally gone over the edge, succumbed to the madness that has infiltrated every fibre of his being? Have all the horrors that he has held onto for so long escaped past his guard to now run rampant within his mind? No, you are still in there bro. C'mon Dean, you can beat this, whatever it is. Just wake the hell up and come back to your brother.

Sam hears the door open but this time he greets it with a sense of relief. Like when the calvary arrives to help save the day. Or, in this case, to help save Dean Winchester. He looks toward the door and is almost overjoyed to see it's not a doctor but rather the friendly neighbourhood duo of Steve and Richard. Sam sees that they too look uneasy. Just like him. "Hey guys, um... I think maybe it's time to get a doctor in here? I mean, he's... he's not doing too well and I.. I don't know what to do. And that's the thing, I always know what to do but, but he just isn't himself and I'm not sure how to help him." Steve approaches the brothers and moves in to try and take a look at Dean. He puts his hand on Sam's shoulder and looks straight into his eyes.

"This is not your fault Sam. Sometimes we just don't know all the answers. Let me have a quick look at him okay?" Sam nods to the paramedic and adjusts his position beside Dean to give him access. "Why don't you take a break," Steve quickly puts up a hand to the man beside him. "you don't need to leave the room Sam just walk away for a moment to gather yourself. Talk to Richard for a second. I promise I'll look after him, okay?" After another nod, Sam rises from the bed and makes his way over to the window, and stares out into the world outside. Richard follows and takes his place beside the younger brother. They stand there for a moment and since Sam is not very forthcoming, apparently lost in his own thoughts, Richard is the one who breaks the ice. "Tell me what happened Sam." Sam's eyes remained fixed towards the outside but Richard can see the unshed tears that start to form there.

"God Richard, I think I pushed him over the edge. I mean, he just..he figured out where he was. Well, he knew he was in the hospital but then he realized what part of it he is in. He... he kinda freaked a bit, telling me he wasn't crazy and then he asked me. Well, he asked me for one little thing. He just asked me if I thought he was crazy." Sam feels his agitation rise, feels a cascade of guilt wash over him and takes a moment to compose himself before he continues. "I, I froze. I hesitated. I didn't answer right away, and then I lost the chance." Pause. "He complained about the pain in his head and then just went really still. It was just so eery. And now, well, now he's like that. I don't know what happened. I'm worried, and I don't know what to do. I have no idea what is going on here."

"Sam. I know you are worried, I understand that this is all pretty overwhelming and scary but at least he's here, he can get help. He needs to deal with whatever his mental issues are. He has to, before he is lost to you and to himself. Whatever has caused this, whatever road has led him here you have to believe that this is the best thing for him. It may have been the beating that he took that has made all of these things come to the surface but even you need to admit that he needs professional help. And here, or at some other place, he can get it." Pause. "He can learn how to deal with things, like his anxiety and his paranoia, but first he has to be open and honest about what is going on in his head, and that will probably be the hardest part. Do you know what may have started all of this behaviour?"

Oh please. Sam feels something within him snap and then feels nothing but utter and complete frustration with Richard, with Dean, with Steve, with this whole damned situation! How can he make anyone understand? What Dean has been through? To be honest, Sam is amazed that his older sibling can still function on a day to day basis. He wishes he could just yell out to Richard. Yell out to Steve. Yell out to everyone in that god damned place! Yell out that all those 'impossible' things that Dean spoke about in his beaten up stupor? Every last one of them is TRUE! Sam feels his anger start to flow and wants to lash out at the closest target, which in this case just happens to be Richard. Sam knows he doesn't deserve to get wailed on but he needs to let some emotions out before he explodes! No Sam. Relax. Richard and Steve, the doctors and nurses, they are all doing what they truly believe is best for Dean. Sam will never be able to tell them the truth. Not ever. Because there is absolutely no way they will ever know what is out there. No way to make them believe.

As Sam just continues to stand there, as he continues to look outside, as he continues to feel Richard's eyes bore through him waiting for some sort of response, the younger Winchester feels sick inside. Feels disbelief. At himself. How could he ever believe that Dean would purposely injure himself? Sam plays the conversation with his brother over and over again in his mind and chides himself for being so foolish. Dean would never leave his brother. Because Dean promised to protect him and Sam doesn't think his stubborn brother even knows how to break a promise. He said he'd always be there for him. God Sam, how could you be so stupid? Your mastery of the over-think has really backfired this time. Of course Dean didn't try to kill himself. There has got to be another explanation. And Sam will find it out. As soon as he can talk to his brother again, he will find out exactly what that explanation is. And he hopes that chance will come very soon.

As he stands there, Sam feels the warmth of the sun as it shines through the window, as it envelopes him, as if in an embrace. And he feels calm. And the calmness seems to spread throughout every cell in his body. Then he feels a sensation he hasn't felt since this ordeal began. Hope. He then wonders to himself. Is this what an epiphany feels like? Huh, maybe. It just, it seems so crystal clear to him all of a sudden, in that moment. He no longer feels out of control with all of the unknowns of the situation, or with the circumstances that have brought both him and his brother here. It's now so very clear. Of course not Sam. Of course Dean would not do that, he would never leave you alone, not after all you have been through. Damn it Sam, why didn't you just tell him that when you had the chance? Stupid, over-thinking oaf.

Steve fells a bit stumped and perplexed about it. He sits beside Dean, who by all accounts appears to simply be in a dreamlike state, complete with rapid eye movement. The paramedic gently guides him into a prone position on the bed to try and make him somehow more comfortable. Dean twitches once in a while, opens and closes his mouth as if he is talking but no words every actually leave his lips. His breaths are rapid but Steve does not feel he is in any immediate danger. Satisfied that there is nothing else at the moment that he can do for this man, his glance veers towards the two men at the window. He can't make out the words but Steve feels they are in the midst of an intense conversation. Well, it appears rather that Sam is the one who is turning up that heat. Steve looks to Dean's form one more time and then stands to slowly approach Sam and Richard. He wonders at what their conversation had entitled thus far as he catches the next phase of Sam as he delivers what Steve can best describe as a talking to in Richard's direction.

Sam blinks himself out of his reverie and still feels Richard's gaze on him as he remains beside him. Sorry Richard, not going to entertain this conversation. Dean is not crazy, Dean does not need to be poked and prodded and analyzed and forced to talk about things that he finds difficult to articulate even to his own brother. He just can't. If he did, that could be what would truly break him. "No Richard, I'm sorry but actually, you don't understand. Not really, and you never could. It's clear to me now. I don't want to be cruel but I am the only one in this room, in this entire hospital that knows Dean. And I know, with 100% certainty, that my brother did not try and would not try to kill himself. You said it yourself, I am the most important thing in his life. So, he would never intentionally leave me. I would hate him forever and that is one thing he could never bare to be the bringer of. Can I explain what happened to his wrists? No, I can't. But it doesn't matter, all that does matter is that I know he is not responsible for it. I will find out, when he is able to tell me. I will never doubt him again, not about that."

Sam hears Richard take in a breath but keeps on. "Dean has been through so much, has seen so much and has that damaged him? Undoubtedly. Changed him? Definitely. But, will I talk about it with you?" Sam turns and faces Richard. "No, I will not. I won't betray his trust, not ever. And, if I opened up to you about things that he has experienced that would be a betrayal of the worst kind and he would never forgive me. And I would never forgive myself. I owe him everything. I owe him my life. So, the answer is no Richard. I don't know what started all of this. And I'm sorry but you are wrong, I do not believe that my brother is in need of professional help. Not here, not in any facility. I know that he is not crazy. Yes, he may have a lot of issues but he is not crazy. He can cope, I have seen it time and time again, and after he jumps over this current hurdle he will be able to cope again. Like he always does. I can help fix him like I always do and he and I will be fine. Together."

The youngest Winchester hears movement and sees Steve come up to stand beside Richard. Okay, now he has to address both of these men. "I don't know how but I am going to arrange it. Dean is not staying here, even if I have to break him out he is not staying here to be observed or monitored or poked at or prodded or shown inkblots that will supposedly reveal his innermost thoughts on life. I won't ask you to help me and I can't stop you if you need to sound the alarm bells but I am asking you to trust me. It is absolutely not in Dean's best interest to be here. I've had time to think about things and although I was unsure about it before, I am definitely sure about it now. Dean needs to leave this place. But, I am a rational man most of the time so I will try it through the proper channels first. So boys, please tell me, who do I have to talk to to spring my brother out of this joint?"

Steve and Richard just stare at Sam. They want to protest, they want to argue, they want to run and tell the powers that be about what they just heard. But how is it that even though it contradicts every feeling within them about what is best for Dean that they find themselves siding with his younger brother instead? Who are these brothers and what kind of life do they lead?

**TBC...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello to all! Thank you so much for keeping up with this story, it really warms the heart. The amount of reviews it has received so far is really overwhelming and I appreciate every single one of them. This chapter threw me for a loop, gave me all kinds of trouble and I'm afraid I don't feel very satisfied with it. I attribute it to my life getting in the way, playing havoc with my writing skills. Having said that, I hope that you will still find some enjoyment in it. As always, if you feel like dropping me a note about your feelings I always love to hear from you. I hope you will try to be gentle. :) I am hoping to be back to my usual self in the next chapter. Thanks again for reading, I do appreciate anyone who takes time out of their life to have a gander at it. Thank you! :-)**

To an outsider it may seem like some kind of standoff. Some kind of showdown. The three men stand, facing each other quietly, as if they are each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Although Steve is pretty sure he knows the answer, he still needs to ask the question, to hear a response from Sam. "Sam, are you absolutely sure about this? That this is what you want to do? That taking Dean away from here is the best thing?" As Dean's brother looks directly at him, Steve sees him smile. Yup, just as he thought, Sam is going to get his brother out of here, come hell or high water.

"I am absolutely, unequivocally, definitely, without one speck of doubt sure about this Steve. The two of us have had many, many ups and downs, so many things that make this seem so very insignificant in the scheme of things. We have managed to come through them all pretty much in one piece. And together. There is no reason for me to think that this little hiccup in the road will work out any differently. So yes, I am sure." Pause. "So, my friendly neighbourhood paramedic, now that the formalities are out of the way, can you point me the way of who to talk to in this joint to get things in motion?"

"Well Sam, that's the thing. You may know Dean better than any of us in this room or in this building but I am the one who knows better than anyone in this room about the policies and protocols that a hospital and it's staff must adhere to. I am having a hard time even believing that you were allowed to stay in here. That no one has been in to have a look at your brother yet. The staff must really think you are a good influence on your brother. But, I can guarantee you they will be here soon and I can also guarantee something else Sam. If you go and simply ask to have your brother released you will not get the answer that you are looking for. There is no way that the doctors who have been charged with looking after Dean are going to just let you walk out the door with him." Pause. "They think he is mentally unstable. They think he tried to kill himself, that he is a danger to himself and to others and it is their ethical duty to treat him. They are the ones who will decide if and when he is fit to once again join the outside world. So Sam, if you are really dead set on getting him away from here, you can not do it through the proper channels. You will have to find another way."

Woah. Sam feels a bit shocked by this revelation. Made to him by a health care professional. Someone who can be classified as being someone within the statement Steve made. Someone who should adhere to protocols, blah, blah, blah. So why? He wonders why this man, this stranger, this paramedic hasn't run out of the room to inform someone about what Sam was planning. Huh, he really is a good guy. What do you know, they do exist, isn't that a kick?

Richard looks to one and then the other. He feels uneasy because he knows that Steve has pretty much just said that the only way to get Dean out of here is for Sam to sneak him out. Shit. "Okay guys, I don't want to rain on the parade here but I think that Dean is going to be visited by a few different people soon. Like a doctor. Like the cops. They talked to me last night remember? And they are going to be coming here to talk to him so can we maybe hurry up on the plan, whatever the plan is? I'm getting a bit nervous over here."

Sam looks to Richard. "Soon Richard. Hang in there, just a few more minutes okay?" Then his eyes focus on Steve. "Wow. I have to say that I am surprised Steve. Here I thought you were all gungho to keep him here, to get him help. I seem to recall you telling him and me that this is where he can get the help he needs, at the hospital. So I have to say it again, I am very surprised that you would be so honest and open about this stuff. So, the $64,000 question is.. why are you telling me all this?"

Steve feels a chuckle escape him. "Good question." He ponders it for a moment and then just shrugs his shoulders. "The hell if I know Sam. I can't put my finger on it, I can't explain it but somehow, some way, I know in my gut that you're right. That Dean will not be able to find peace here. I would hate to have the responsibility on me for an outcome that would include Dean being locked up somewhere." Steve then shakes his head. "Hell, I don't know if telling you this is right, if basically condoning you to break him out is right, if telling you this is actually in Dean's best interest but the way the two of you interact with each other? The dedication to each other that I have seen come from both of you, well, that can't be a bad thing right? And, I know that you will do your very best Sam, to look after and take care of him." Pause. "He is lucky Sam, to have someone like you as his brother and although I don't know much about your relationship, I have a sense that you are lucky to have him as well. To take the two of you away from each other, well, that just seems wrong." Another chuckle. "Maybe you just put some kind voodoo spell on me?"

"Geez, you guys and your stupid chick-flick moments. Is this what happens every time I have a little nap? For shit's sakes, you two, can you stop squawking and find me my god damned pants already?"

All eyes turn towards the bed. Towards Dean. Towards awake, smart-ass Dean. Steve stays where he is, Sam moves over to the bed and Richard heads towards the door. "Hey bro, how you doing?" Sam looks at his brother and sees him try and give a smirk but it kind of falls flat. He looks pale and tired and just plain beat up. Again.

"Awesome." Sam glares at his brother. "You didn't let me finish Sammy. Awesome, except for the fact that my head feels like it's going to explode at any moment, my eye hurts, my side hurts, my wrists hurts and to top it off I still can't put any of the pieces together. Kept seeing things. Mom. Dad. You." His voice goes into whisper noise then. "Dead. It was like my mind was replaying all your deaths over and over. I couldn't wake up, I couldn't stop it. Flashes of the worst experiences in my life. Hell. Alistair. God. This sucks. Big time." Sam opens his mouth to speak but doesn't have a chance to respond before Richard's voice fills the air in the room.

"Hey guys? I don't mean to interrupt but if there is going to be an escape happening it is going to have to be very soon." Richard looks to the men in the room and back to the hall. "I'm no braniac or anything but it looks to me like there's a doctor out there, and he is starting to, what's the term? Oh yeah, make his rounds."

Dean feels his tension rise to an uncomfortable level. "Pants. Some one. Get. Me. My. Pants!"

The room is awash with activity all of a sudden. Richard remains at the door, looking out to the hall, scared and nervous, like he's ready to bolt if the heat gets too much. Sam runs around looking for the elusive pants. Steve helps Dean get up from the bed and once Sam arrives victorious, clothes in hand, the two of them work together to get the older brother ready for transport. "Okay Einsteins, can we go now?" Dean wants to go and tries to spur the others into action. "They are gonna be here soon and then I will never get out so please! Let's go already!"

Sam and Steve lock eyes. "Okay Steve, what's the best way outta here?" Sam feels himself start to become nervous. They are so damned close to getting his brother out of this place but at the same time it also seems so far. There are just so many things that could go wrong, so many different variables to consider but, as Richard pointed out to them moments ago, time has run out. They need to move now, to get Dean out, to feel freedom from this place. Okay, no problem, just need to get off this floor. For some reason that seems like an enormous feat right now.

"Richard, let us know when the doctor goes into another room okay?" The man at the door nods. "And Richard, once that has happened, how do you feel about being a distraction? If we need you to, do you think you can you keep the nurse at the station busy while we leave the room?" The nod seems a bit reluctant but it is still there. Steve knows that Richard is definitely treading outside of his comfort zone. Come to think of it, so is Steve. The paramedic then turns his attention to the younger brother. "Sam, when we leave the room we'll have to head to the right, we need to get down the hall and around the corner, since the elevator is located right by the nurse's station we'll have to use the stairs. We'll head out through the emergency department. The staff from last night will be done their shift so hopefully we are able to just coast through there and head out the door." Sam nods. "Dean?" No response. "Dean?" Dean faces the paramedic. "Okay, you are going to have to try your best to walk on your own, we don't want to raise any red flags to the nurse at the station right?. Just do your best, Sam and I will be on either side of you so we'll help you if you need it okay?" A nod from Dean. "Okay boys, it's now or never." Sam nods. Steven nods. Dean nods. And finally Richard nods. He looks out the door, down the hall in the direction of the nurse's station, and keeps his hand held out to the trio of men in a stand right there and wait gesture. A few moments pass, Richard changes his position a bit and then motions a come hither movement with his index finger. Showtime.

**TBC...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi ! So, here is chapter #13. Lucky #13? I guess you'll have to read along to find out... In case I haven't mentioned it before, I really appreciate all of the reviews! Well, I may go as far as to say I really love them lots! :) Feel free to tell me your thoughts on this chapter, it's really neat to read what others think. It is my goal to provide a bit of entertainment and I hope that this chapter is able to provide a little of that. Thanks again!**

Richard is the first to leave the room. He heads down the hall towards the nurse's station and stops to look back at the trio once as they also make their move from the room. They lock eyes on him for a moment and then the three men turn to start their way down the corridor in the opposite direction. Richard feels his pulse start to climb but has a sense of relief as he observes the nurse get up from the station and walk down another hallway, away from him. She seems to be in a bit of a hurry as she moves and Richard wonders for a moment what could have happened to get her all riled up.

The trio on the other side of the floor continue their trek to freedom. Dean tries his best but can't quite hide the fact that he is in pain. His gait is slower than usual, he leans to one side as he clutches his ribs, and every so often he blinks rapidly and slightly shakes his head, as if to clear the cobwebs out that have taken root there. But to his credit, Dean doesn't stop, doesn't falter, doesn't make any noise other than that of his slightly laboured breath. Now that he has begun the process of leaving this place behind, nothing, absolutely nothing is going to get in the way between him and the ride in his baby that awaits him outside.

Richard feels conflict well up inside him. As he keeps vigil on the hallway he finds it hard to believe that he has been reduced to some kind of lookout, aiding and abetting in some sort of weird get away plot. Sure, he likes the brothers, he really has taken a shine to them both. And he really likes Steve too but is he the only one in this bunch that is having doubts that Dean will be suited best by not getting any help at all? I mean they all saw him didn't they? Last night and this morning? He really isn't well. Whether it's physically or mentally, and no matter how strong of a bond the two brothers have, how can it be better than getting real, trained to handle these kinds of situations help? He lets out a deep sigh. But, even so, does he really have the heart to rat them out?

As they approach the corner, that once rounded will lead them to the haven of the staircase, Steve glances behind his shoulder to see how Richard is doing. He sees him, as he stands at the nurse's station, and Steve feels like his eyes bore right through him. The look that he finds in those eyes causes the paramedic to feel a cloud of concern and worry and it floods him. As he continues to gaze back towards Richard, the sight of no one, no one around anywhere, heightens that sensation at least ten fold. No nurse, no doctor, just Richard. That is extremely odd. There should be some kind of activity going on, some movement there but he sees none. And Steve doesn't like that look on Richard's face. He looks to be a man who isn't sure about something, a man who is debating things, and Steve fears that Richard's resolve to help them may be about ready to fly out the window. It makes the urgency of this escape that much more immediate and he looks over to Sam. "Faster Sam. We've gotta go faster."

* * *

As Richard continues to stand there, frozen to the spot it seems, he turns and looks down the hall at the men as they retreat further and further down the corridor. Steve continues to walk along with the brothers but manages to shoot a glance in his direction. Richard can guess that the inner turmoil he is feeling inside is shown prominently on his face. He sees a sudden flash of concern grace the other man's features and notices a slight increase in his pace.

* * *

Sam doesn't question the man beside him. He just nods and feels a knot form in his stomach. C'mon, we can make it. We have got to make it! The trio rounds the corner, only a few feet from the staircase, and as the light at the end of the tunnel slowly forms, it seems to be extinguished in an instant as Dean comes to a halt.

Without warning, the older Winchester stops all forward motion. He groans and grips his head with both hands. "It's...it's happenin' again...S'mmy? please...can't watch you die..again..." Dean looks at his brother and Sam sees the sadness, the heartache, the palpable pain on display within him. Dean's eyes fall closed and Sam knows he has to act fast.

"Dean, just focus on me okay? Look at me." Sam's older brother lifts his gaze to peer up at him. "I am here, I'm not dead. I'm here with you bro. Always. Remember? You saved me Dean. You sacrificed everything for me, to save me. And you did. I am here because of you so please, stay with me right now." Pause. "Just concentrate on getting out of here, on getting into that beautiful car of yours, on listening to some of that music of yours that annoys the hell out of your baby brother, on having a cold brew with me and sharing a few laughs. You are so close. We are so close. We have got to keep on the move Dean. Just a few more minutes and we can do all those things. Sound good?"

Steve can't help it. As he listens to the brothers talk, he wonders again what things these two have seen. He wonders what they have endured for one another. His mind is full of questions that he hopes he will be able to ask. How did Dean save Sam's life? What kinds of other traumas has he, and possibly Sam gone through? He can only imagine and as he hears Dean's voice again, he decides that this is probably not in any way the proper setting to find out.

"Yeah, okay S'mmy. Don't be so sappy huh? You know how I hate chick-flicks...can only handle one...a day. And you and Stevie boy over here have already had a doozy right? Can't listen to anymore of that shit for at least...another year or so." Dean looks briefly to Steve with as wide of a smile as he can muster and then his gaze tracks back to his brother. "Whatever you say man. Get me the hell out of here." Sam nods to his brother, looks to Steve and nods again.

Now that they are out of the main hallway, the two men each keep a hold of Dean and urge him to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Finally, the stairs are in sight and the brothers breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief. Steve however can't shake the nagging feeling that is present in his gut. He constantly looks around, ahead of them, behind them, from side to side and continues to feel unsure about things, like it is just a matter of time before something slows their progress.

Steve, Sam and Dean start to enter the stairwell and Sam is thankful that they only have three flights of stairs to negotiate to arrive at the main floor. Dean has gone quiet so the younger brother continues to talk to him about nothing in particular questions him occasionally in such a way to illicit some sort of response. He needs to keep him grounded, keep him in the same frame of mind as the two other men. No one in that stairwell can afford for the older brother to have another episode like the one in his hospital room, that would cut this attempt at freedom very, very short.

* * *

Richard continues his inner struggle to decide whether to sound the alarm to the staff but the decision, the choice he is having such trouble with is suddenly taken from his control. He sees the nurse return, doctor in tow. They rush past him at an eager pace and head down the hall towards Dean's now vacant room. Huh. Funny how all the mental stress Richard had just experienced seems to be gone. He no longer wonders what course of action to take, he knows. He can't stand by and let the brothers or Steve get caught. As the doctor and nurse get closer and closer to Dean's room, Richard briskly walks past them and then sprints down the hallway in the direction of the others. He rounds the corner and sees the door of the stairwell close shut. He is there in a few strides and as he enters, he clears his throat to announce his arrival. Steve peers at him, a question mark displayed in his stare. "You need to get moving, now! By now they will know Dean is not where he is supposed to be and I am sure they are going to be scouring the place to find him. So get your asses in gear and move! NOW!"

All of the men in that stairwell now begin a mad dash downwards. Even Dean, who grunts and moans as he moves has upped the pace, as the urgency sparks him into action. The four men continue their descent and arrive at the main floor in what seems like a matter of mere seconds. As Steve gazes through the stairway window, Dean takes the timeout to calm his breath and gain some control over the aches and pains that course through his entire body. Steve looks side to side and feels satisfied that their attempt to escape has not yet been thwarted. He looks to the group behind him, places a hand firmly on Dean's shoulder and gestures a semi-enthusiastic thumbs up. Dean gives him a patented smirk and with a smirk of his own, Steve takes a breath, grabs the handle and pulls the door open.

Sam takes in a breath of his own and thinks about how this is all just so weird, here he is and he feels like some kind of fugitive. In a place of healing yet. As he thinks a bit more about it though, he shouldn't find it that weird. He and Dean have been in this same kind of circumstance many times before. Sneaking out of hospitals, cemeteries, morgues, and so many other places that the normal population has no reason to ever venture into, let alone to do so willingly on occasion. The Winchester boys sure do have a weird kind of existence.

The foursome moves cautiously out of the stairwell, and all four sets of eyes scan and roam each corner of each area they now find themselves in. As they move closer to the emergency department, they start to hear all the sounds associated with it. Steve finds himself thinking how he is glad that he is not working today, not caught up in the mayhem, but, as he contemplates further, he finds that he is now in a position that, if caught, could cost him his career. He brushes that feeling aside opting to go with his oh well, no going back now, just get on with things attitude instead, and continues on.

They reach the corner and pause for a moment. Steve peeks his head around to see that it is a busy place indeed. He knows this is the perfect scenario for an escape and feels hopeful that the men won't be noticed amongst all of the hustle and bustle he sees swirl around him. Steve turns, mouths the word ready to his cohorts, and after each man nods in agreement, they head out into the fray. Dean and Sam keep their heads down as Richard and Steve continue their vigilant eagle eye scans of the area. Richard feels elation start to rise as they seem to blend in to the chaos that surrounds them. He hates to see so many people in need of attention but right now, at this moment, he also feels somewhat thankful that this particular morning seems to have brought many a wounded soul to this place. As they continue to walk and walk without incident, each man feels more and more certain that yes, they are going to make it out of here.

Steve is at the head of the pack with Sam hot on his heels. Sam feels surprise when he finds himself suddenly breathing in the fabric of Steve's shirt as the paramedic comes to a sudden and complete stop in front of him. The younger brother doesn't speak but rather peers around his blockade's shoulder and understands instantly the reason for the delay. Sam can't help but feel that the exit, straight ahead, a few meters away, might as well be on the other side of the planet. Because what Sam sees, standing on either side of the sliding entrance doors are two, what was the phrase Sam used the night before, oh yeah, burly security type dudes. And those two dudes are what currently stand in the way. In the way of the two brothers, the paramedic and the samaritan. They are what stand between them and the freedom that they seek that lays just beyond those doors. Damn it, they should have come up with a plan B.

**TBC...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello again everyone! Here is the latest chapter, hopefully you will enjoy! Feel free to leave a comment to let me know what you think, they really make my day! Thanks again for reading... until next time! :) **

Dean feels pissed off. Really, really pissed off. Why has his brother stopped? What is the hold up? He grabs hold of Sam's arm. "Sammy, what the hell?" Sam looks at his brother and Dean doesn't like that look. He takes a moment to see whatever it is that the others are gawking at and he doesn't like that either. Frick. Well, that puts a slight dent into the get away plan but there is no way in hell he is going to let a couple of redneck wanna be security guards get in his way. Not now. C'mon boys, those aren't demons or spirits or witches or anything else. Just damned humans. We can take 'em right? "Sammy? What's the matter bro, scared of a couple hicks?" Pause. "We just need a distraction and then we're home free. C'mon, let's think, let's work our Winchester mojo on those mothers. Are ya with me?" As he looks at his brother, Dean suspects Sam has entered into his ultrathinker zone again. No time bro. "Listen Sam, we are sitting ducks here, if we don't do something, and fast, this whole place is gonna notice us."

Richard listens to Dean as he talks to his brother and can sense the panic that's woven within his tough on the exterior tone. He is scared. Richard's breath quickens and as his eyes dart around, looking for another way out, and when he can't find one, he resolves to the fact that it is now his turn to do something. To step up to the plate. To stop thinking so much and just act on what he believes is right. In this case, that rightness is in the form of getting these other three men out of here without incident, to help them just melt away into the background. He knows it is just a matter of time before others come onto this floor, in an effort to find their escaped patient and his accomplices. May as well go out in a blaze of glory. Huh, it sounds like he's getting ready to die but that's not it. He just wants to build up a tad more courage within himself to save the day. To save these strangers.

Sam isn't sure what to do. Actually, he wants to let out a scream, to relieve some of his pent up frustrations with this entire mess. Okay, think Sam. Dean is right, these are just humans after all. No super strength or claws or the ability to disappear and then reappear out of thin air. What's the big deal anyway, they are just men. Just two, large, bulked up men whose purpose it is to maintain order and be on the look out for trouble. What could possibly go wrong? Oh, right, this group of four just happens to have trouble written all over them. Maybe there's another way out? Maybe they won't look at us if we just walk by? Maybe we can sweet talk them into letting us walk out the door peacefully? Shit, not one of those plans sounds even remotely plausible.

Richard smiles as the distraction he seeks suddenly appears, and what do ya know, it's heading down the hall right at them. Perfect. He is amazed at how quickly everything comes together. How it just instantly pops into his mind what to do. He has the perfect plan. The perfect distraction. This time he doesn't feel any apprehension, or worry or fear. He knows this time he is going to do something the others will view as great, and hell, all of them, and he thinks Dean imparticular, may even think it is pretty cool.

There isn't much time so Richard leans forward so he is within earshot of all three men. "Okay fellas, time is running short, now or never right? I want to say thanks for a, let's say, interesting adventure, one that I won't soon forget I'm sure. Sam, Dean, you said you needed a distraction right? Well, the usually mild-mannered me is about to give you one. Don't waste it okay? It really has been a pleasure. I wish you both the best. And Steve? Make sure you all get out of here okay?" Before anyone can say a word to him Richard leaves the group and begins to travel down the hall, right towards his distraction in the making. And, as it turns out, he may just manage to save the day afterall.

Sam, Dean and Steve all gaze at his back as it ebbs away from them. Richard stops, leans against the wall and turns his head to look at the trio of men. He smiles broadly at them and gives a down low thumbs up. Dean watches but can't figure out what this guy is going to do. Richard's gaze moves from the three men and wanders back, over to the other end of the hall. He still smiles, this time to himself, as a constant pep talk loops around in his brain. With a bit more you can do it Richard internal encouragement, this previous stranger to the brothers Winchester commits to his plan to help them and without any more thought, jumps into it and follows through in stellar form. Just as the orderly he has been keeping his eyes on is about to walk past him with a fully loaded supply cart, Richard darts out in front of him and is hit square on by the offending cart. "Holy Shit! Watch where you are going you doctor wanna be!"

What? The men that have been left behind all share a look of shock with one another. Even though he is a fair distance away from them now, Richard is making his rant known to the entire floor. Man, maybe he should look into a career as an actor because he is playing his role for all it is worth and Dean has a hard time tearing his eyes away, he feels like he wants to watch the rest of the show.

Steve diverts his gaze from Richard back to the men at the door. He can tell they have noticed the kerfuffle down the hall but still stand their ground. C'mon guys, you know you wanna check it out. Steve looks back towards the altercation. C'mon Richard, just a bit more.

Back at the scene of the cart, Richard is in full-on adrenaline mode now. He realizes he needs to up the ampage of his episode when he notices that his comrades have yet to move. So, he grabs the supply cart and tips it over, spilling the contents onto the floor below. As the sound reverberates through the area, and as he sees many an eye upon him, Richard takes a breath and pours it on. "HA! Take that you spineless bastard! Maybe next time you'll think twice before you try to run innocent people over!" Pause. "What's a matter? Cat got your tongue? Or, maybe, do you think you're better than ME? Is that it? Maybe you and I should take this outside, or are you a fraidy cat? You stupid piece of walking shit!"

Woah, you go Richard! Huh, and just when I thought he didn't really have the balls to do anything out of his comfort zone. Cool. Dean looks to the door again and it appears that the last words spewed from Richard's mouth at least did part of the trick. Dude number one looks to his partner and then heads over to the scene. Well, it isn't both of them but hey, their odds have just multiplied exponentially. "Okay, Richard is giving us a chance so let's not make his theatrics over there for nothing. Time to make a break for it guys!"

As security type dude number one walks past them and towards the ruckus down the hall, Steve, Sam and Dean make their move, towards their door to freedom. Steve notices that the other guard is distracted, his eyes drawn to the path his partner just took. He can still hear Richard's voice echo to his ears, with a lot of colourful language that he finds difficult to believe could ever make there way past the other man's lips. I guess you really never know what another man is capable of until he is forced into certain situations. The trio makes it to the door and are side by side with the guard with Sam closest, then Dean, then Steve. They don't speak, they don't look back, it's hard to say whether they even breathe. Only a few feet to go now, and as the sliding door opens to the world outside, and as they take their first step out of the hospital, fate decides to choose that moment in time for Sam to feel a steely and fairly unfriendly grip on his shoulder.

"Stop right there sir. Not so fast. You and your friends here are not going anywhere. Rumor has it that man beside you needs to get back inside, back up to the fourth floor where he belongs. I don't know what you think you are doing but the folks inside seems to think he is not in any kind of medical shape to be leaving. So, just cooperate and everything will work out fine. Okay?"

Sam looks over to his brother and the genuine look of fear that is displayed on his features makes the younger brother's next actions ones of instinct and automation. It's a good thing this dude doesn't realize who he is dealing with. It is obvious that he believes Sam is a pushover and that he would never dream of putting up a fight. Sam reaches into his pocket, fishes out the keys to the Impala and hands them over to Steve. He then twists out of the man's grip and as he does so motivates the other two men with a very vocal "RUN!"

Dean pauses as he watches Sam spin and lay a surprising blow to the other man's face. As the bigger man reels from the unanticipated attack on him, Dean feels the pull of Steve on his arm and although the older sibling feels reluctant to leave Sam, he starts the march, the very fast and furious march to his beloved Impala. He had spotted the car as soon as they left the hospital doors and silently thanks his brother for parking so close to the entrance. He points his finger towards the Impala "There it is Stevie." They reach the car and as they do, both men look back to see what kind of shape the third man of this unlikely trio is currently in.

Dean's smile goes from ear to ear and he feels a burst of pride well up inside of him for his brother. "That's my Sammy." The older sibling looks over at Steve and if possible his grin gets a little wider yet. The paramedic looks as though he has suffered some sort of shock.

Steve had been expecting to see Sam up against the side of the building, or on the ground after being easily subdued by the guard. He had also wondered on their race to the car just how they were going to now get him out of this new mess. But, as Steve's stare continues, he can clearly see that it won't be an issue. Not at all. Sam obviously does not need to be saved. Dean's brother sprints towards them and it appears that the imposing burly type security dude, the man that was such an obstacle moments ago, is laid out flat on the pavement.

**TBC... Just as a heads up, it may take a few days for my next update to arrive. Busy weekend ahead and I'm not sure how much time at the computer I will manage to squeeze in. I will be back though! :) **


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello! Here is the next chapter, kind of a shorter one but I hope that it will still be entertaining. I am excited to see that this story has passed the 10,000 hits mark. I am absolutely thrilled about it! Thanks to everyone for sticking with me on this journey and for leaving such wonderful reviews. Feel free to keep those comments coming, you just know that I absolutely love to get them! Until next time... enjoy! :)**

Dean chuckles to himself as he looks towards Steve again, the paramedic still frozen with a 'how the hell did he do that' expression planted on his face. "Yo Stevie, snap out of it man. I know, I know, who would have thought my scrawny baby brother could deliver a huge slice of kick ass pie onto that dude. But, just another day at the office for us brothers. Here he comes so I think you'll be riding in the back dude." Dean finishes his statement just as Sam arrives at the Impala. Steve hands the keys over to Sam in silence and with a shake of his head, gets in the back. Sam looks to his brother briefly and they share an unspoken moment, and in that moment, it is once again confirmed, they always have each other's back, no matter what. Dean's smile remains intact but his strength weakens as he stands, the adrenaline that had propelled him this far suddenly taps out and he wants nothing more than to sit down. He knocks his fist on the top of his car, in his familiar let's get out of here style, and the brothers get in. Without a word, Sam starts the engine and they flee the scene of the crime. Steve takes a look back towards the hospital and witnesses a small crowd start to gather around the stunned man as he slowly makes his way to his feet. Huh, bastard doesn't know what hit him. As the hospital begins to fade further and further behind them, the passengers feel lucky. They are now well on their way to the road, to their freedom, to leaving the tension and nerve racking chaos of the last few hours in the dust spewed up into the air at their backs.

Inside the Impala, Dean rests his head against the seat and reaches out to gently stroke the dashboard. "Hey baby, it's good to see ya again."

Sam sees Steve's distinctive eyebrow raise within the rearview mirror and he can't help but smile. And for the first time, in what seems like ages, the smile he wears on his face is genuine. "Don't worry Steve, Dean talks to his car like this all the time, nothing to alarm yourself about. This?" Sam points to Dean. "This is actually normal."

"It's okay baby, Sam has never understood us, he's just jealous cuz he knows I like you more, just ignore him." Dean hears the inevitable 'whatever dude' leave his brother's lips and feels his mouth curl into another smirk, he loves to get at his brother whenever he can about the Impala. As Dean and all the other passengers in his beautiful baby slip into a comfortable silence, turning over the events of the last day within their minds, he begins to feel tiredness creep into his senses. It sets into every fibre, every joint, every cell in his body and as the older Winchester sinks further into his seat, he kinda feels like he is floating, right on the cusp of sleep. He hears mumbles around him, from the other two men he assumes, and maybe he even hears his name once or twice but he is too damned tired to give a response.

Dean feels his eyelids start to droop, lower and lower, but as they complete their descent he is suddenly made aware of his brother's presence beside him when Sam's distinctive sasquatch sized hand is placed on his brow. He leans out of the touch purely from habit and hears the sigh it evokes from Sam. Dean knows that the gesture is only one of concern from his brother so he makes an effort to relieve some of it. "Geez Sammy, chill. I'm fine, just tired man. It's been one hell of a ride huh? A weird, screwed up, law-breaking, odd defying kind of ride and this cowboy for one is hanging up his boots and hunkering down for some shut eye. Partner." Okay, I think that sounded a bit out of character. Cowboy? Ah well, screw it, who cares anyway? His younger brother says nothing but Dean just knows a pair of eyeballs are looking at him, that he still needs to satisfy Sam that he's alright. He opens his eyes, blinks several times to wash away the cloudiness of sleep from them and, just as he suspected, looks head on into the worried eyes of his brother. "S'mmm... stop it please. I'm okay. Keep your eyes on the road dude. Don't wanna have to revoke your driving priviledges."

Another sigh escapes. "Yeah sure Dean but can you try to stay awake until we get to the motel? In a few minutes you'll have your chance to hang up those boots of yours. You do realize you just called yourself a cowboy right?" Sam sees an attempt at a grin form on his brother's lips, hears a muttered 'yeah, that's me, cowboy Dean' but can also tell it won't be easy to keep his brother with them for much longer. Sam decides his best bet is to just keep talking, keep annoying his brother until they reach the motel. "Besides, I just had a tussle with a very, very large dude and I'm not in the mood to carry your heavy ass over the threshold into the room. Alright?" Shit, that did it. Sam silently scolds himself, he really should learn to keep his own well being out of conversations when his older brother is functioning at far less that 100%. He knows by the way Dean's eyes go wide that he has forgotten about everything else and gone straight into his must protect Sammy at all costs mode. Barely able to vocalize mere seconds ago, the other men in the car become witnesses to the 360 degree turn that Dean makes on a dime. The older brother sits up, reaches out to Sam and starts looking him over with a fine-toothed comb as he checks for injuries and wounds. And then Dean starts to ramble, at what seems like a hundred miles a minute. Sam knows that is not a good sign. Because the only time that Dean talks more than a word or two at a time it can only mean one thing. He is not thinking straight. Great.

"Sammy? God, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Are you okay? Did he get you? Cut you? Hurt you? Why didn't you say something? Why did you do that? You should have left me, It should have been me. I should have protected you." Dean stops to gather some more air in his lungs before his rant starts up again. "You shouldn't have to look out for me, I'm the one who is supposed to do that for you. That's my job Sammy." Dean punches the dash, the same one he had carressed so fondly earlier, and turns to look out the side window. When he speaks again it is as though it's to the world outside. "I promised dad. But, what does it matter, I failed him. And you. I couldn't get to you in time, I tried but it wasn't good enough. I was too late." Looks back to Sam. "You, you... God Sammy! I couldn't even do that right! I... I... "

Steve continues to watch the scene unfold from the back seat and feels compelled to do something to try and diffuse the situation. He reaches out to touch Dean on the shoulder, in an attempt to bring him back to the present. Steve can feel the shakes, the tremors under his fingers and tries to soothe the obviously upset brother. "Dean, try to relax. You just need to get some rest and everything will be better. You've been through a lot in a short period of time and your body and mind need to unwind. Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. We're almost there. Just calm down your breathing and you will feel better. Can you do that?" Dean looks towards him and Steve sees the tears as they threaten to fall from his green eyes. Dean nods and Steve follows suit. The paramedic keeps his hand on the other man's shoulder and glances towards Sam. He sees the same pain and worry that cascades from Dean ooze out of him as well. Steve can't explain it but also can't seem to help himself when he finds that, for some reason, he has to fight back tears of his own.

The younger Winchester floors it a bit when he sees the sign of the motel just ahead. He appreciates Steve's efforts to calm Dean down and although it seems to be working for the moment, he wants to get to their destination fast. He doesn't need his brother to go into full-on panic mode inside the car. He rounds the corner, into the parking lot and slams on the brakes. He shuts off the car and looks to Steve. All it takes is that one look for the man in the back seat to relinquish his hold on Dean and for Sam to replace it with his own. "Dean, listen to me for a minute. We've made it to the motel so what do ya say we get inside and get you some shut eye?" Dean's gaze falls upon his brother and Sam can see he is still fighting the self hatred that is inside him. "Dean, I am here right? Nothing wrong with me. I'm still here. You didn't fail me, god, are you ever going to realize that it was you, it was you who saved me? That you always save me? And dad? I know that dad was damned proud of you, that he couldn't have asked for a better son. So for once in your life, please, let me look after you." Pause. "Alright, alright, I know, chick-flick hater Dean is set to make an appearance again so just hang on and we'll get your stubborn ass into bed."

Sam and Steve exit the car and although the paramedic wants to ask all kinds of questions he keeps his mouth shut. "Give me a hand Steve? It can be a bitch to get him outta the car sometimes when he's not with it." Steve nods and the pair walk to the passenger side. They see Dean, focus deadset on the dashboard, with no indication of any activity going on in that brain of his at all. "Just a sec, Steve, I'll get things going with him." Steve watches as Sam opens the door gently and places a hand on Dean's chest. He's amazed at how gentle Sam is with his brother. It seems like a well rehearsed choreographic dance, which makes him wonder even more how often the two brothers find themselves like this. "Steve? We're ready."

**TBC...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello there! Sorry it has been a few days since my last update. Darn life getting in the way again! :) I'm thinking maybe one or two more chapters to go in this saga. Thank you for continuing to read and see where my imagination goes with this. I would love to hear what you think, if you are inclined to leave a comment please do, they are fantastic to get! I hope as always that you will enjoy this latest chapter. **

Even though Sam knows that his brother is still not quite running on a full tank, and that perhaps he still is not quite the sharpest pencil in the pack at the moment, he still feels an overwhelming sense of relief as he and Steve manage to get Dean from the car into the safety of the motel room without any further complications. All he can think about is that they made it. The fact that Dean has allowed the two men to guide him into the room tells his younger brother quite a bit. His brother is obviously exhausted and although Sam still wants to know what the hell went on the night before, he knows Dean needs nothing more right now than to lay down and grab some zees.

As the two men place Dean on one of the beds, Sam watches him but notices he doesn't lay down but rather leans up against the wall and closes his eyes. Sam fights the urge to ask his brother how he's feeling, if he needs anything, and what is going on in his mind right now. But, to avoid some sort of macho and typical I'm fine response, Sam decides it's better at the moment to just keep his mouth shut. Instead, the younger sibling feels extremely thankful that his brother won't have to be subjected to curious eyes and even more curious psychoanalytical minds now that they have escaped the confines of the hospital. To be honest, Sam just doesn't know anymore if Dean could have handled it. Sure, he would have started off all cocky and smug and would have let out a curse or two but even tough as nails Dean would have a hard time facing things if they were constantly being shoved in his face. Sam wonders to himself, would Dean have finally cracked? Would he of gotten to the point where he would have spilled some of his deepest, darkest secrets? Sam feels sickened at the thought of Dean being interrogated and quizzed and analyzed and feels a shiver pass through him. As he looks again to his brother he also feels a surge of gratitude that his brother is still there, still with him, and not hold up in a psych ward somewhere. Another shiver rips through him as he contemplates what would have happened if the doctors did get a chance to get a hold of Dean, he feels unsure when or if he would have seen him again. Sam sighs in relief and when he begins to walk away from his brother's side, he notices Steve, who hasn't moved from his spot just inside the door. Sam looks at him, gives a quick smile and motions for him to follow. The younger Winchester makes his way over to the table and collapses into one of the chairs. Steve follows his lead and takes the seat across from him.

After a couple minutes of comfortable silence, Dean starts to get up slowly from the bed. He eyes Sam as the younger of the two starts to rise up from his chair. When Dean speaks Sam can hear how tired and frail his voice sounds, like it takes an extraordinary amount of effort to get the words out. "Chillax bro, I'm just headin' over to drain the snake. You and Stevie-Boy just relax for a damn minute okay? You two have done far, far too much for me already today. I think I can handle using the potty myself." As the older brother starts to walk towards the bathroom he turns to Sam again. "And, before you even ask, don't worry, I will leave the door unlocked in case I get caught up in the suction of the toilet okay? I'll cry out if I need help with the shake." He chuckles what Sam gauges as a fairly unenthusiastic chuckle and disappears into the room.

The two other men sit in silence at the table. Sam lets out a tired and weary sigh, leans back in the chair and puts his hands behind his head. He closes his eyes and relishes in this chance to relax. After what feels like the most stressful, emotional and physically draining of roller coaster rides, the younger brother is just anxious to get back to the normalcy of his life with Dean. Well, as normal as their life can be at least. Sam continues to enjoy his minute of solitude when he hears a sigh come from someone other than himself. He suddenly remembers that at this moment, at this table, he is not alone. He must be exhausted too as he wonders how he could have forgotten about Steve. He feels a swift sense of guilt consume him so he opens his eyes, places his elbows on the table and looks to the man that sits across from him.

"Sorry man, I think I kinda zoned out there for a minute. It's been quite a day." He sees a sincere smile light up Steve's face and can't help but smile himself. "Yeah man, you're right, I guess that is on hell of an enormous understatement." Sam leans further over the table. "Listen Steve, in all seriousness, I just, I want to say thank you. I don't think that those words can cover everything you did for us today. You helped us. Total strangers. You trusted me. Believed me when I said that Dean could not stay there. Without you, without Richard, I don't think we could have gotten away from there and the idea of Dean being in that place, I just, it wouldn't have been good, not for him and not for me." Pause. "You didn't think of yourself, of what could happen to you if you got caught, you just, well, you helped save the day. I just don't know what else I can say Steve. So, thank you. From Dean and from myself. Thank you."

Dean takes care of the business and then takes a moment to wash up, to rinse his face and then gaze at himself in the mirror. He sees the bruised eye, the worse for wear nose, the cut on his neck. He hopes that none of this will leave a scar on his oh so pretty lady magnet face. He smiles at himself, at his own wit, and resumes his self examination. He doesn't need to look at them to know that his ribs are bruised, they like to remind him every time he happens to move, or to breath for that matter. He continues on until his eyes rest on the bandages on his arms. On his wrists. He eyes them questioningly, and searches for the answer that always seems just out of reach. He thinks about it for a moment or two and when his head starts giving him the signal that he is indeed thinking too much, he decides to hell with it, he'll figure it out after he gets some sleep. Dean feels dead on his feet and comes to the conclusion that he can just have a little rest where he is. He sits down and leans up against the tub. He just needs to rest his eyes for a minute.

Steve looks into Sam's eyes and can see the gratitude in them. "You are welcome Sam. I have to admit though, I've never, ever done anything like this before and never thought that I even had it in me. And Richard? Wow! What a show! I really thought at one point, when we were talking in Dean's room, that he was going to cave and turn all of us in. He really surprised me and I think I surprised myself a bit too."

"I know! I can't believe that Richard did that! He didn't seem the type. I hope he made it out of there okay. I have a feeling he would of taken off as soon as he saw us make it out. This is definitely a story Dean and I will be able to talk about and laugh at later on." Sam looks towards the bathroom door. The door that his brother hasn't made it out of yet. "Speaking of Dean, I know him and I am sure that he spent a good deal of time inspecting those facial features of his and, I may not be an expert on those things, but I don't think it should take that long to take a leak and beautify yourself. I think I'll just go and check on him, be right back." And at that, Sam takes leave of the unbelievably comfortable chair he had occupied and heads over to the bathroom and knocks softly on the door. "Dean? Hey bro, tell me that you didn't really suction your ass on the seat in there cuz that image could do a lot of damage to my eyeballs." There is silence behind the door but Sam does hear a distinctive laugh come from Steve's direction and he can't help but smile. "Dean? Okay, I'm coming in." Sam slowly opens the door and finds his brother up against the tub, eyes closed and Sam lets out a soft giggle. He wishes he had a camera because there he is. Dean. His big brother, usually chalk full of piss and vinegar, asleep, in a seated position, on the bathroom floor no less. This is another subject worthy of making a note of for future conversations between the two brothers. Sam leans over to Dean and shakes him lightly on the shoulder. "Dean? Time to wake up sleeping beauty." Sam sees his eyes flutter and slowly open to look at him. Dean's eyes may be open but Sam can tell his brother is not really awake.

"S'mmy? No. 'M tired. So. Tired. Long day huh? I'll stay here. Don' wanna move. I'm good here."

"I know you're tired man but I bet you would feel better if you actually made it to a warm, comfortable bed for your snooze instead of the cold bathroom floor. What do ya say bro? Let me help you up and we can get outta here okay?" The younger brother grips the older one by the arm and when Dean pushes off the floor the pair reach a standing position much easier than Sam had imagined. Sam smiles as his brother pretty much turns to goo in his arms. He leans into Sam, lets himself be manhandled and doesn't complain once as he is ushered into the other room. The two brothers make their way from the bathroom and arrive at Dean's bed. Not a word is said by either of them as Sam helps his brother lay down and even Sam finds it hard to believe when not one smart ass comment is forthcoming, especially when the older sibling is covered up with the tacky quilt that seems to pass as linen in this particular motel. It appears to Sam as he looks down at his brother that Dean is out for the count. He feels glad. It's true, the younger Winchester still has so many unanswered questions about what happened, but because Dean is the only one who can shed some light on the events of the night before, the only way he'll get those answers is if his older brother is able to retell the tale. And the only way to get to that is if Dean is finally on the mend.

Sam heads back to the table and to Steve and once again collapses into his chair. "Everything okay Sam?"

"Yeah Steve, it's good. Dean's batteries finally crapped out on him and I am hoping he can get some good, stress free sleep. I'm frustrated a bit that I still don't really know what he went through last night but I can wait. If he rests up maybe things will seem a bit clearer to him when he wakes up and we can have a chat about it and maybe get some answers."

"I agree. Once his head has a chance to get some decent rest, to heal, he should start to remember more details about his ordeal. Neither of you have had a chance to relax since this whole thing began." Steve takes a pause and looks over to Dean. He decides he can't take it anymore, he just has to, just needs to ask. "Sam, can I ask you something?" Sam looks towards him and nods. "Um, well, I don't want to pry and I don't want to make you uncomfortable but, seeing you and your brother together, hearing some of your conversations, well, I've never seen two people so in tune with one another before, so dedicated. And, uh, well, I just have to ask." Steve pauses to take in a deep breath. "Okay, here goes. Sam, did Dean really save your life?" It's automatic. It's amazing. Steve has never seen anything like it before. The paramedic witnesses a distinctive change in Sam's face. That same face that had a huge smile across it just minutes earlier, that was so happy and ecstatic to be with his brother in that dingy motel room. That same face has just changed in an instant. It now displays an array of emotions, and seems to do so all at once. But, as Sam's gaze tracks towards his brother's sleeping form, there is one emotion that stands out most to Steve. Pain. And as Sam's gaze continue to stare at the bed the other man sees something else. Tears. As the tears continue to well up in the young man's eyes, Steve assumes that Sam's mind now replays events known only to himself and to Dean. While Steve begins to fear that perhaps he has crossed the line with the question, because he has heard no response, he sees why none has yet been given. Because now those same tears begin to fall. Freely.

Sam can't help it. So many images flood his mind. Not just of the recent sacrifice Dean made to save him but all the times his brother has put himself in danger. For him. So many times. Sam is caught up in the memories and forgets where he is for a brief moment. The last thing he wants to do is for Dean to wake up and find him babbling in front of an almost total stranger. But, he also finds he wants to spill everything to this man, wants to unload some of the pain and immense guilt he carries around with him every single day. To tell him that he was there, that he watched, helpless to do anything, as his brother took his last breath. To save him. But, he also knows he can't. He can never tell. Ever.

As Steve looks on he isn't sure what to do. He mentally kicks himself for broaching the topic. It is obvious that Sam's emotional response is painfully real. Something did happen to them. To Sam. To Dean. As he tries to think of some way to apologize, to somehow undo the question, he watches Sam as he wipes the tears away, regains his composure, and utters one almost inaudible word.

"Yes."

**TBC...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Happy Saturday to all ! Here is the latest installment for you to have a gander at. Reviews and comments are fabulous to receive so feel free to drop me a line if you feel the urge. Thanks again for reading and tagging along with me and the boys. I hope you enjoy! :)**

"Yes."

Steve doesn't feel even one iota of surprise at Sam's admission. The emotions he had seen move across his face when he was asked said it all. Dean really did save his brother's life. But, Steve feels flooded with more and more questions. How did he save his life? Why did Sam need to be saved? Why does he need protecting? What about their dad? What about all the strange mumblings Dean had made in Steve's presence? Steve assumes from the silence that any further discussion is off the table so, this time when Sam speaks, it does evoke a sense of surprise from him.

"Yes, it's true. He saved my life. Dean has saved my life countless times Steve. I owe him everything. That's why, at the hospital, I just... I just knew he would never hurt himself like that. I don't know why I ever doubted it. Because he knows that if he did, it would kill me. He doesn't think much of his personal worth but I know he could never and would never hurt me." Pause. Sam thinks about how he isn't sure if that last statement was 100% accurate. After all, Dean DID hurt him, when he made that damn deal, when he was dragged down to the pit. But, he did that to save his brother, so to Dean there was never a decision to be made, he always put the younger of the two first no matter what. Dean saw a chance to save Sam and he took it, willingly. "Well, at least he would never intentionally hurt me." Another pause. Sheesh, Sam really needs to stop talking, the sentence he just uttered was meant to be a thought in his own mind and not for public display. He looks up to Steve and can see the question mark look he currently has on his face. The temptation is there but Sam can't. He lets his gaze fall from Steve to the top of the table. Hell, Steve doesn't know anything about their life and Sam is not going to be the one to drag another innocent person into it. Not into their screwed up existence. The less Steve knows the better.

Steve is speechless. He just stares at Sam and waits to see if anything else is going to be said. He senses that Sam wants to talk about it, that he needs to lessen the burden of it all. But, at the same time it seems like the man sitting across from him is being very cautious about what information he chooses to relay. It's like he has a deep, dark secret that he feels he must protect. So much pain between these two brothers. So much pain but also so much love. It truly is amazing to witness first hand. Whatever has happened in the past has obviously made these two men very protective and very devoted to each other.

Sam wants to talk, wants to spill every bloody and depressing and upsetting and unbelievable moment of his and Dean's life. He just has an unexplainable need and want for Steve to understand. That Dean is and always has been a hero, if not in his own eyes, certainly in the eyes of his baby brother.

"I know you must have a lot of questions Steve, about the conversations you have heard, about the things Dean talked about while he was out of it, hell, I have a few rolling around in my head about those too." Sam seems to lie easier these days and man, that does not feel like it should be a normal thing for him to do. He knows he can't tell this man about Hell, about the fact that he actually DID die and that Dean sacrificed himself to bring him back, but he really, really wishes he could. "Dean has been through more than any other person I know and yet, through it all, he doesn't complain, well, not much anyway, he just continues on to do what he has always done. You've seen it first hand Steve. Dean tries to hide his pain behind all his macho crap, his sarcasm, his stubbornness, his jokes. But I know that he hurts, every single day. That's just the way that he copes with things, with his memories and his pain." Pause. Sam wants to stop himself but he admits to himself that it feels good to let some stuff out. To talk about Dean, about his feelings towards him and what he has been through to someone. He decides to press on. "I only get to see his real emotions on display when he has hit rock bottom, or when he gets a knock to head like we have seen here. He has a hard time opening up to anyone, including me. If his troubles aren't brought up then he figures they don't exist. But, no one can go through life like that. Sooner or later the levee will break. I just, I wish Dean would let me help him for once, let me be the one to do the protecting, the saving. But he can't. Not ever. Because to him it is his job. To look after me. And it always has been, since he was a kid, he has had to protect me. Because he made a promise. He promised our dad that he would look out for me and he has, always."

Even though Sam hasn't really spoken in event specifics, he has told Steve an awful lot about his relationship with Dean in those few facts that he did divulge. He will probably never know the reason why Dean and his father felt that Sam needed to be protected but that seems to be the foundation of Dean's life. Even when he was beaten up and bleeding in that alley, when he was hallucinating horrible things and fighting him and the hospital staff at every turn one thing, one person was never far from his thoughts. Sam. Or rather, Sammy. Steve finds himself being selfish, hoping that if he just remains quiet Sam will continue on and tell him more. It sounds to Steve like these two men have been on quite a journey together during this life and that it all started a very long time ago. Steve's thoughts are interrupted as he notices Sam, that his focus is now trained towards the bed his brother currently occupies.

Dean feels confused. He knows he is laying down but doesn't think it's night cuz he swears he can feel and see the light of the sun underneath his lids. He wants to open his eyes but they feel like they are glued shut, and weighted down by a tonne of concrete. What gives? Dean isn't really sure where he is or how he got there. He moves and rustles under the sheets and feels a tightness form within his chest when another thought reaches his mind. Where is Sam? He tries to lift himself from his position but damn, it's like trying to move 500 pounds. The older brother pants with exertion and then with fear. Panic starts to come into play when he can't seem to make his body follow even the most simple of commands. His head hurts, his side hurts, his entire body seems to throb in a wild beat that increases and increases at a steady pace. He can now hear his blood rushing in his ears and as they start to ring he feels anger and helplessness invade his senses, at his inability to form any kind of logical thought about anything. He hates that and it begins to grate on his nerves. His mouth is dry and all he manages to get out is a squeaky "S'm?" The older brother clears his throat and makes an extra effort to make himself heard by his brother, that is if his sibling is even there. "Sammy?" Dean hears footsteps and seems to relax just a bit, until the idea of those steps belonging to someone else enters his brain. He starts to squirm even more, and as he tries to get up once again, he stops any and all movements as soon as he feels a hand on his chest.

"Shhh, lay back down Dean. Just relax. Everything is fine. You are safe. I am safe." Dean is amazed at how his brother's voice seems to ground him, provides him just enough strength, motivation and determination to help him open his eyes, only half way mind you, but still. He feels some tension leave his frame as he sees what he had hoped to. Sam, his brother, albeit a blurry and out of focus version, as he looks down at him, complete with his signature goofy smile and intense eyes. "Hey bro, you need to relax. Just close your eyes and go back to sleep." Dean knows he wants to ask Sam a thousand questions but as he looks into those eyes he can't seem to remember even a single one. The older sibling fights to stay awake, he wants to tease Sam about how he needs to stop being such a girl but his words are stuck in his throat, unable to make their way to his mouth. "C'mon Dean, close your eyes, just for a second." His brain tells his body to move, to stop laying there and get up but even if his body hears it, it decides neither to listen nor cooperate. Dean keeps his gaze on Sam for a moment, but his eyes seem to be drawn closed on their own and he starts to feel the familiar pull of slumber reach out to him. As he slows his breath, as he relaxes with the knowledge that Sammy is safe, he hears his brother's gentle voice come through to his ears despite the fog. "That's it Dean. Take it easy. It's time to sleep."

Sam stands beside his brother for another moment just to be sure he is indeed asleep once again. Satisfied of that fact, the younger brother walks back over to the table, sits down and holds his head in his hands. He feels as if the brief reprieve he had from his conversation with Steve has cleared his head and he lets out a sigh. What was he thinking? He finds it hard to believe that he has just told this man across from him some of his innermost feelings about his brother. He feels as though in some way he has betrayed Dean. His brother always seems so stoic, never one to suffer and tell yet here Sam was, doing exactly that. There isn't anything Steve can do for him, for Dean, they are cursed to go on through this life fighting the fight, killing and destroying the worst of nightmares. No, enough is enough. No more talking.

Steve watches Sam as he holds his head. He can feel a protective barrier come up around the other man and that his time of learning anything more about the dynamic duo that is Sam and Dean has come to an end. He wishes he could do more for them but they obviously keep there secrets close to their hearts. He will try and respect that. Steve sees Sam lower his hands and feels a slight shudder run up his spine at the look that he is now currently on the receiving end of.

"I'm sorry Steve but I don't think I can talk about this any longer. It's just, well, it's something between Dean and I and it's just too painful to talk about." Plus, as Sam thinks more about it what could he possibly tell him? About demons? Monsters? Spirits? Deals? Huh, Steve would be on his phone in a flash to have both brothers committed if he tried to tell them the true nature of who they are and what they do. Sam's expression softens as he reflects on how he has no right to be upset with Steve, none of this is his fault. In face, if it wasn't for him, who knows what predicament the brothers would now be in. He knows that he owes this man a debt of gratitude. "Just, please know, and never forget, by helping us, you may very well have saved Dean's life. And mine. I hope you will respect that the topic of my life, of Dean's life now has to be off limits. It's too painful to rehash, and no matter how sincere and compassionate of a person you are, and I know that you are Steve, you could not possibly understand it."

Well, I guess that clears and wraps things up in a nice, tidy bow for Steve. Off limits. The paramedic thinks maybe he should be thankful that Sam has made that decision because, to be honest, whenever Sam speaks, Steve finds himself having the answer to one query but that it only seems to spawn more and more questions. "Okay Sam, okay, I understand and respect that. Consider the topic now closed. Thank you for being so honest and open about things earlier and I just want you to know that you and Dean will always have a friend here, if you ever need one, if you ever want to talk. And, I do not regret anything and am absolutely certain that helping the two of you was the right thing to do. Okay, now the topic is officially closed. Enough of that stuff." Sam nods towards him and Steve sees him flash a genuine smile in his direction.

The pair sit at the table for the next hour or so touching on numerous, non Dean or Sam related topics. Just a whole bunch of small talk. Weather. Sports. News. The usual items of interest that ordinary folk tend to speak about. And it starts to bore the hell out of Sam. Is this what a normal life is about? It this all a normal life has to offer? If so, maybe it really sucks to be normal, not that he or Dean will ever have to worry about fitting in to that category. Then again, Sam thinks maybe it would be nice not having to run for their lives, or travel from town to town hold up in some shitty dive motel exactly like this one, or worry about who they have to save next. Huh, maybe it's their life that sucks instead. Yeah, he thinks that's it. As time moves along, as Steve and Sam drift off into their own thoughts, they are both brought out of their internal discussions as the first phrase that they hear from Dean, in what seems like hours, makes it's way out of his mouth and to their ears. And it happens to be a strong indicator of how he must feel at that precise moment. "Sonofabitch."

**TBC... Next chapter teaser: **

**Dean finally remembers and wants to serve up some payback... **


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello again everyone! Here is the next chapter for you to take a look at. I hope you enjoy and I hope that you will drop me a line if you have any thoughts about it, those reviews are golden you know! :) Thanks again for sticking around and reading, I do truly appreciate it! Until next time...**

It's weird. Dean feels it as it starts. He can actually feel himself be pulled from a state of sleep into one of wakefulness. Well, he feels a bit more awake anyway. He thinks he feels a bit more rested too. But, for some reason, he also feels pissed the hell off. He grunts a 'sonofabitch' as he moves, assaulted by pain as it seems to ooze out of every pore in his body. His eyes look towards the nightstand and when he sees his wallet and his phone placed there, right where he left them last night, scenes flash across his mind from the night before. Oh yeah, now he remembers the reason. His head still aches, his body still burns but he now feels himself consumed by another emotion. Pure, unrelenting rage. It's like he is caught up in a rerun on television. Drugstore, beer, back alley, and one ugly mother yahoo. Jesus! Dean struggles to believe it. That it was just some random douchebag? That is who is responsible for this whole god damned circus? The ambulance, the hospital, the fear, the pain? Dean's heart beats faster and faster as he remembers all those images he saw, how he had to live through all that shit again, and why? Cuz some yahoo who can only get his groove on if he steals and beats people up decided to mess with him? And... oh my god! Him? The older Winchester looks down at his wrists and just stares for a moment. He did this? He feels a chuckle, a sinister, you are in big trouble now kinda chuckle, rise up and fly out from between his lips. Oh man, that mother is gonna pay, and Dean wants to make it slow and oh so painful. Buddy, you have messed with the wrong dude. Been to Hell and back man, that shit messes with a person, makes them capable of so many nasty things.

Dean bites back a moan as he sits up, as he works to ignore the pain that flares from various parts of him, and makes his way to his feet. Woah, as he sways for a moment he thinks maybe he should have gotten up just a tad slower. Ah well, nothing like a firm grip on a strategically placed nightstand to prevent a man from a less than graceful plummet to the ground. Dean stays in that position for a minute, with his eyes closed, and searches to gain control his breathing, to fight off the crest of dizziness as it works its way through him. He wants to go, now. Needs to suck it up. Needs to go and serve up a dish of piping hot payback to that sonofabitch that did this to him. The anger surges within him again and he lets go of the table. He needs to get out, to start to scope out the area, to find that stupid yahoo and deliver to him the beat of a lifetime. To exact some kickass of the pissed off, out of his mind with hate, Dean Winchester kind. Dean smiles at the flash that enters into his mind now. He pictures his fist, as it pounds into the face, the body, as it comes down and strikes pain and suffering into every part of that piece of shit. Revenge is gonna be sweet. And slow. And awesome.

Sam and Steve watch, unsure of where Dean's head is at. He looks extremely agitated and completely pissed off. Sam doesn't approach at first, just stands from his chair and tries to gauge his brother's movements. Dean still looks like shit, pretty much like he could fall on his face at any moment. Sam watches him sway, close his eyes and fight to get his breath back in line. His jawline is set with determination and then Sam sees an eerie smile appear on Dean's face. Sam knows he is going to make his move soon, to try and bolt. The younger brother walks over and stands directly in front of him. "Dean? What's goin' on man? You still look like you could use some more rest. And don't think I didn't notice when you had to grab the table for support. Talk to me, tell me what you are doing, what you are thinking." Dean looks straight into his eyes and Sam can see it. Sam watches him as he seethes, as he brims with rage, with hate, with tension. He feels it as it flows out from his body, out from his eyes. Shit. Not good. Not at all.

"Sam, just get out of the way dude, I need to go take care of something. Now." Sam doesn't move and Dean's frustration hits an entirely unheard of level. "Jesus Sam! Just get out of the way, I am going to get a hold of that stupid prick and beat him until he begs for me to stop. And then? You know what? I'm gonna beat him some more. And I am going to enjoy every single minute of it! No mercy Sam, not this time. He has to pay!"

Okay, so, Sam now knows that his brother definitely remembers something. He also sees that his brother's hands are in a constant state of flux, they open and close, open and close and Sam needs to try and get him to calm down, to talk to him. Sam can tell by his brother's uncontrolled movements, speech and tone that his pistons are not yet moving at full speed and he is compelled to try and diffuse the current situation before it escalates. He reaches out to grab Dean's arm but the older of the two shrugs from the attempt at contact.

"God, just stop it! I'm fine! I don't need any more doting on. No more caring, sharing, talking, holding, or whatever other chick-related outbursts of emotions you have in mind. Let me spell it out for you. The only thing I need, the only thing that will make me feel better, is to kick that scumbag's ass! Don't you get it Sam? He... he is the one...he... DID THIS TO ME! It was his fault damn it! I didn't do anything! He made me remember all that shit and...I... he... deserves to pay for it Sammy! For christ sake, he cut me! My wrists! On PURPOSE! Who? Who does that kind of shit Sam? Who? I thought..." Dean closes his eyes and sees the face of Alistair, sees himself hung up on that damn rack and can't help it when a shiver runs through him. He shakes his head. "What the hell, who gives a shit right? It doesn't matter what I thought." Dean's eyes once again focus on his brother. "Just move the hell out of the way Sasquatch!"

Sam watches as his brother's focus moves again, from his face to the floor. "Dean, you need to look at me." No dice, Dean eyes remain riveted to the carpet, his chest continues to rise and fall at a much faster rhythm than Sam would like, and those hands of his don't ease up on their open and close motions. "Look Dean, you need to calm yourself down, right now. You are still in recovery mode and I doubt you have the strength to even stay awake for long, never mind to roam around town looking for someone's ass to kick. I have no idea what the hell you are talking about so you need to stay here, with me, in this shitty motel room and tell me what you remember. Then we can figure out what to do about it. Together. Okay man?"

Dean sighs in utter and complete frustration with his brother. He gives his brother his best don't mess with me right now stare and sees Sam bristle in response. "Don't you tell me what I can and can not do! What I need! I know what I need damn it! What I need is for you to stop treating me like I am some snot-nosed kid! Or some sort of wounded animal, like you are scared of what I am going to do next! Why can't you just understand this Sammy?" Pause. "What I need, right now, is for someone else to suffer for a change! Someone who deserves it!" Dean takes in a shuddering breath, he feels like he is starting to fall apart. "I need...I...need..."

God, those are not tears right? No way, can't be, Dean Winchester does not cry! He just needs to get a grip and think about that little bastard and what he did, then there will be absolutely no need for tears. The older brother just needs to focus. Dean stops for a moment. He breathes in and out, in what he hopes will be a technique that calms him down. He refuses to let any tears fall because that would be a deal breaker, his speech, the one that sounds like perfect logic to him, will fall on deaf ears and Sam won't budge an inch. Dean composes himself slowly but as his body starts to relax the anger he felt just moments ago seems to ease. He starts to feel the weight of his body, of gravity, as it presses down on him again. Shit. No, please, not yet. Dean mutters out to his brother in a soft voice, almost a whisper. "I need him to pay Sam. He needs to pay. For what he did to me. And he will. For what he made me remember. For assaulting my senses with all those images of things that I have worked so hard to bury. He is responsible. For awakening in me the very worst of my life. I am going to find him. And he will suffer Sam, just like me."

The older sibling feels his strength wane and fights another annoying and ill timed wave of dizziness as it courses through him. This time, as he moves his hand and tries to reach the nightstand, Dean wonders when and why it was moved, he swears it was right there a minute ago. As his vision starts to swim and he finds it harder and harder to figure out which way is up, all that prevents him from falling this time is Sam's reflexes as he grabs hold of him around his shoulders.

"Woah, I got ya Dean." Sam stares into his brother's face but notices that those green eyes of his can't seem to focus on him, or anything else for that matter. The younger brother sighs and chooses his next words carefully. He knows that Dean can go from 0 to 60 in one second flat and the last thing he needs is to try and thwart another attempt from his brother to run out of the room on some mission to hunt this dude down. "You're right, he needs to pay. But listen man, no offence, but I don't think you would be able to beat up even a little old lady right now. We'll come up with a plan, both of us, but it will be hard to deliver a good punishment if you can't stand up for more than five minutes on your own. Right?"

Dean wants to fight it. The exhaustion that has crept back into him. He really does want to head out and wipe the smug smile off that piece of shit's face. But maybe Sammy's right this time. Because, as much as he wants to get out there and kick some ass, the older of the two brothers doesn't think it would be the best idea right now. Not when he can see at least two images of his brother float in front of him. He doesn't want to waste his punching power on the wrong yahoo does he? Huh, that's kinda funny. Dean laughs at the thought of it. Yeah, maybe he needs another hour, to get back to normal, so that he can deliver this beating to the best of his ability. After so many run ins with so many various members of the undead, Dean knows that this asswipe is going to be a piece of cake, he will be pounded into the ground. By him. And yeah, he wants it to be while he has a full tank of gas so he can be in his best form, at the top of his game, so he can deliver the absolute maximum amount of pain onto this scum.

He nods at his brother and once he is satisfied that his dizzy spell has passed, he motions with his hand that it's time for a little nap. He doesn't fight it when Sam places him on the bed, he is too busy making a mental list of all the things he is going to put that douchebag through. This is gonna be one hell of a party. Dean smiles to himself and begins to drift off, comforted by the visions that swirl around in his mind. Visions of pain. Visions of suffering. Visions of himself as he inflicts an unyielding dose of it onto that piece of shit. Dean's last thought as sleep finally takes him is how his revenge is going to be so very, very sweet.

**TBC... Next chapter teaser:**

**Dean sets out with one thing on his mind. Revenge.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi everyone! Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up, I had so many different ideas in my head about what to do with this chapter that it took much longer than usual to get them out of my brain and onto my computer! :) Thank you for your continued reviews and comments, they are supercalafragalistic! I hope that you will enjoy this chapter and I would love to hear what you think about it! Thanks again! Enjoy!**

Sam walks away from Dean's bed and feels relieved, and sad, and angry, and countless other emotions as they swirl around in his mind. He's relieved, that his brother has been able to confirm once and for all that he is not the person who injured himself in such a way. He is sad, for the pain that Dean seems to be in a constant state of. He is angry, that some jerk off is out there right now, doing whatever he wants after causing his brother to go through hell and loss and death all over again. He is hopeful, that his brother will be back to as normal as he can be when he wakes up. Sam also feels pissed off. He wants to go out and beat that loser up himself, track him down and make him pay, but, he doesn't think that will really solve anything. He would rather talk to his brother, somehow help him deal with the memories that this ordeal has unleashed and get him to confide to him some of his pain. Sam hopes Dean will just forget about it, that they can just leave this town behind and move on.

The younger brother looks to the man who still sits at the table, the paramedic who hasn't move from that spot since Dean had awoken. He's not sure what he sees in Steve's eyes, not sure how much of Dean's rant he was privy to, but knows that the time has come to cut him loose. Like he said before, the less Steve knows the better it will be for him. As he continues back to the table Steve's eyes follow his movements. Sam doesn't want to just kick Steve out, he has been an anchor for the younger brother, someone to talk to, someone who has taken a genuine interest in his and Dean's welfare. He owes him so much. And, because of that, he also owes him a ticket out of this entire messed up situation. Sam gathers his thoughts and just when he gets ready to start his it's been nice knowing you speech, Steve swiftly takes it away from him.

"Sam, it seems to me that you have an uncanny ability to get Dean to listen to you, even when he isn't in the listening mood. I have every confidence that, with your help, he will make a full recovery and be back to normal in no time." Pause. "I am also relieved to hear, from Dean's own lips, that he was not responsible for the slashes to his wrists. That is a huge comfort to me, knowing that..." pause. "But, I also feel unnerved at the pure hatred that he spoke of towards that other man. Yes, I agree, that person should be punished for what he has done, for what he has put your brother through. I can't even begin to imagine the terror that Dean was subjected to during their encounter. But, I can't stay and be party to any thoughts of revenge. I don't want to know anything about any sort of plan to get even. Not that I don't understand it, I do, and maybe it is just because he is still hurting and still not really sure what is going on or thinking clearly for that matter. I can't take the chance that I hear something that sounds like an absolute and credible threat to another human being, as deserving as it may seem, because if I do then I will have to do something to stop it. I trust that you will guide him, convince him that whatever he does to that man, however he thinks it will help him to cope with things, it won't. It will just make them worse, and that going to the police is a better option, for everyone."

Sam absorbs what Steve has said and feels a bit surprised that he is the one who finds himself on the receiving end of a goodbye speech. Sam senses Steve isn't quite done so waits patiently for the other man to continue.

"So, I think I will have to take my leave of you and Dean now. Believe me, It's been an experience for sure Sam, one that I won't soon forget. I meant what I said earlier. If you are ever in this corner of the world again, or just passing through, look me up, I would love to hear from you. Or heck, even if you aren't anywhere near here, give me a ring once in a while and let me know how you are. I think a part of me will miss all the excitement." Chuckle. "Well, a very small part." Pause. "I sincerely hope each of you can find peace."

Steve stands up from the table and Sam follows. He needs to say something, anything before this man walks out the door. "Let me at least give you a ride back into town Steve. After everything you've done for us, it's the very least that I can do." Oh brother, Sam can't believe that was the best line he could come up with in this situation. Totally corny.

As he looks into Sam's eyes, Steve really does think he will miss this man. "Nah, it's okay Sam, don't worry, you stay here and look after your brother, just in case he wakes up again. Something tells me he would be gone in a heartbeat if he had the chance. I can call a taxi from the motel office." Pause. "Just gonna go home and relax for a bit, all this swashbuckling can make a guy tired. I hope there is nothing nearly as exciting as meeting the two of you on the agenda for work tonight. This kind of thing may be old hat to you brothers but to someone like me it is just plain exhausting!" Steve finishes his speech with a wide, toothy grin, reaches out his hand to grip Sam's and without another word slips out of the room and heads out. Sam stands by the door for a minute after it closes and, as he follows Steve's progress towards the office, he whispers a soft goodbye.

* * *

Sam spends the next few hours watching some television, cleaning some weapons and surfing articles and the internet for anything particularly supernatural-ish in nature on the news. To be honest, the younger Winchester thoroughly enjoys his time of solitude. He enjoys the peace and quiet. His eyes track every so often to his brother's splayed out form on the bed. He feels content to see Dean actually enjoying what looks to be a good sleep. And then Sam feels jealous. He really thinks he could use a few hours of shut eye himself and knows it would feel so damned fabulous to stretch his long frame down and relax. It sounds great but he just can't bring himself to do it, to let his guard down. Dean has been all over the place with his moods and until he knows for sure what state of mind his older sibling will be sporting when he comes to, Sam resolves to stay awake. The last thing he wants is to deal with a missing brother, to try and find him out in this town somewhere when he isn't in top condition, cuz that would definitely suck. Instead, Sam decides to remain in his seat at the table, with his trusty laptop for company, and starts to mindlessly pass the time away.

* * *

Dean wakes up and feels good. And, unbelievably hungry. The light in the room tells him that it is evening and he sees his brother at the table, his brother who looks about a second or two away from doing a faceplant into his keyboard. The older sibling clears his throat to get Sam's attention. He watches the eyes move from the laptop to him and Dean flashes him his best grin. Sam smiles back and the older brother responds by widening his own. Man, Dean can't believe how good it feels to smile. Weird. He can't seem to remember the last time he had, like he's been swimming around in some kind of fog for god knows how long. He can't focus on anything else other than how strange it is. How strange to feel so happy to wake up in this crappy motel, like he escaped some sort of bad trip or something. Odd. "Hey! Samantha! You look like shit you know, maybe it's about time you got some sleep. I must have really been out of it after creamin' that spirit last night huh? Nothing like a good sleep to recharge the batteries. I am feeling great so why don't you have a little snooze and I'll go get us some grub. I am starving dude! How long did I sleep for anyways?"

Not again. Sam stares at his brother, unable to comprehend that Dean seems to have forgotten what had happened and what he went through. Again. So, he figures either he'll have to keep an extra set of eyeballs on his brother and watch for the sign that will inevitably appear, that moment in which his brother's internal light comes on and it all becomes crystal clear. Or, he can just cut to the chase and fill Dean in on what his mind has chosen keep in the back somewhere, just out of reach. Sam takes a deep breath, lets out a sigh and says four simple words. "What do you remember?"

Dean feels unsure for a moment what made his brother ask what seems to him to be an out of place question. But, because Sammy looks kind of serious, he decides to humour him. When he actually does try and remember anything, something, he finds he has to wonder why. Why the first thought he had when he woke up wasn't one of rage. Why his mind chose to gloss over all the details of what he had endured. Shit, it doesn't seem to matter now. Dean feels awake, refreshed, energized and ready. He remembers. And now he wants to go out and get on with the fun.

Huh, Sam was expecting it to take a few minutes, maybe a few hints here and there by him before his brother realized. But, it only takes a matter of seconds for the light to come on and for the fireworks to begin. And, as far as fireworks go, that brother of his, well, he never seems to disappoint. Sam suddenly finds himself wishing he would have taken that nap after all.

"Let's see. What do I remember? Well baby brother, a whole lot of shit was dumped on yours truly. Hmm, where to start? It all kinda went bad when I found myself in an alley, beaten up, sliced, and pretty much left for dead by some stupid idiot human being imposter! Like I always say Sammy, I'll never understand them." Dean feels heat rise within him, he starts an unyielding march from one side of the room to the other, as if he is actually trying to wear a line through the carpet. He thinks some more, remembers some more, and then spouts some more.

"And then.. oh yeah, the visions. Of Hell. Of Alistair. More and more of them, thinking I was still there, that was a lot of fun." Pause. "Okay, um, the ambulance, the hospital..." Dean concentrates but can't quite make sense of random images in his mind. "It gets kind of fuzzy after that. I remember...um...lots of people around. Grabbing me... touching me... two big dudes holding me... and you were there Sammy! You came!" Pause.

Sam just sits back and watches and listens. His heart is breaking for his brother. Once again Dean is caught up in memories. And, none of them are good. The younger brother sighs and remains where he is, he decides Dean needs to let it all out and then maybe together they can put the pieces back together again.

"Oh yeah! That dude, the guy, you know, he helped us escape! Man, that was totally awesome! Then... got out, got in the car, came here. And, there was someone else. Umm..." Dean closes his eyes, tries to picture the face, the name of the stranger he feels like he knows. Someone that Dean feels helped him. Got it. "Stevie!" Dean smiles at that. Stevie, he was a cool dude.

The older brother takes a moment then, searches in his mind for more information but finds that the only thing he can focus on in there is him. The scum. The loser. The idiot human being that did this. The yahoo. "Hey, you know, I'm feeling pretty good right now Sammy, I feel like I could lay some major whoop ass on that mother that did all of this to us. Are you with me or what?" Dean hates this. All of this talking. All of this remembering. All of this shit, it makes him feel tired again. He hopes that his little brother doesn't pick up on that. But, Sammy is showing him those eyes and Dean thinks his best efforts were not quite good enough to convince his brother.

Sam rises from his chair and makes his way over to his brother. "Listen Dean, you really do need to settle yourself down. You can not just run out there searching for some yahoo to beat the shit out of. I know you are upset, that you want someone to pay for what happened. I get it. I do. But, you first need to take care of yourself. You have been out of it for hours, and you don't remember half of what you, and I have been through since last night. So, just take a minute, think about things and get it out of your head for the time being that you are going to dash out an exact some justice." Sam expects a fight or the usual Dean responses of how he's fine and maybe some insults thrown his way so he is most pleasantly surprised when his brother remains silent. But Sam sees something else. His brother looks defeated. Tired.

"Why don't we go out, get some grub, come back here and figure out what we are going to do next. You said yourself you are starving and I don't believe that you are feeling that great yet so what do ya say? Can we just wait it out until you can go at least a few hours without passing out from exhaustion?"

Dean doesn't have the energy to argue and he is famished so, in a pretty uncharacteristic move he relents to his brother. "Okay Sam, sheesh, keep your panties on, fine. Yeah, I could eat so lets a move on so we can get back here to discuss how we are going to kick some yahoo ass!"

Okay, Sam thinks this is a pretty decent start, to get Dean to agree to take it easy for even a little while can sometimes be quite a monumental feat. He knows his brother's brain may still be gung ho on all this revenge stuff but Sam also knows his body isn't quite up to the challenge yet. He hopes once Dean has eaten and been up for a while that he will be too tired and worn out to entertain anymore ideas, at least tonight, of looking for trouble. It's been a long day and Sam needs to relax, to sleep, and he can't do either of those if he is in a constant state of worry over his big brother.

Without further discussion, the two brothers jump into the Impala and drive into town. And this must be one of the only towns that, as unbelievable as it seems, does not have one fast food drive through joint in the whole place, so they settle for a local diner instead. Sam still thinks it would be best to grab the food and get back to the motel and so, since Dean looks as though he is heading towards oblivion again, he leaves him in the car and heads out to collect their food. Dean watches Sam enter the diner and throw him a glance and a smile from just inside before he makes his way to the counter. Dean can't believe it. There actually seems to be a line in the place, at a greasy spoon diner no less. Dean is glad it's his brother standing in line and not him because, although Sammy doesn't seem to mind, the older sibling doubts he would have the strength to stay upright for long.

Dean leans his head against the window, lets his eyes close, and feels his limbs start to turn to jelly again. Damn it Sam, why does the younger of the two always have to prove he is right about things. Dean can't deny it, he is wiped. All he wants to do now is get back to the motel, eat some food and hit the sack. He can't wait until he is himself again. Huh, maybe he should just let this whole thing go. Just get back out on the road tomorrow and leave this town and its shitty memories behind. That asswipe will get what's coming to him, he will mess with the wrong person some day, somewhere along the way and will pay for it. Dean thinks maybe he can live with the knowledge of that. Those kinds of dudes always get what's coming to them. Always. Dean opens his eyes to take another look at Sam's progress in that slow, languishing line. He laughs as he sees the I don't mind waiting look on his brother's face morph into a what is taking so long, I don't have all night to waste in this shithole grimace instead. He figures even mild-mannered Sammy has his limits. Cool.

Dean moves his gaze from the diner to the street. Not much activity on it, a few teenage girls walking on the other side, giggling and texting on their cell phones. He catches sight of an older couple walking across the street and thinks it's cute when he notices they are holding hands. He smiles at the thought that you're never too old to hold hands. What? Dean puts his hands to his face when he realizes how girly that sounded and wonders if he is starting to lose it. Yeah, he's obviously suffering from Sammy syndrome complete with the touchy feely crap and that clinches it. Another night of rest is definitely in order before he does one more thing and now is as good a time as any to start.

Dean relaxes into the seat and is just about to close his eyes when he catches a glimpse of another figure, a solitary one, as it rounds the corner and heads down the street, towards the Impala. Him. Right there. Coming right at him. Any thoughts of sleep are gone. Of Sammy, gone. Of food, gone. Any thoughts of fate, of someone else destined to bring his revenge on this scumbag are gone from Dean's mind in an instant. The sonofabitch that did this is walking right to him. And Dean will be damned if he is going to let this particular stroke of luck, of fate, of whatever you want to call it, walk on by. Payback is his.

Dean looks away from the street, crouches lower in the seat, turns towards the driver's side of the car and lets the man walk right by without making a move. The older Winchester scans the street and is almost overjoyed to see that right at that moment there is no activity. No cars, no people, no nothing. It couldn't have been planned any better if he had done it himself. Fate is making this happen. Right now. Giving Dean his chance to screw this guy up. Who is Dean to say no to such a golden opportunity?

The older Winchester takes one last look at Sam in the diner and as he is still occupied, gets out of the car, takes a moment to steady himself against it, and slowly stalks towards his victim. He is consumed with one purpose. One motive. One agenda. One thought. Only one. Revenge. He watches the man duck into a back alley and Dean chuckles. He almost can't believe it. This douchebag is taunting him, giving him the perfect set of circumstances to strike. In some rundown back alley, just like how it happened to him. It's ironic. And, it's totally awesome.

With one more look up and down the street, satisfied that no one and nothing will be able to witness him, or stop him, Dean follows the man into the alley. He feels a surge of adrenaline and excitement. This guy has no idea, no clue what is going to happen to him. He doesn't know who he is dealing with, doesn't know about all the tricks that Dean has learned, of how to torture a man to the brink, to make him scream, to make him beg, to make him yearn for death. Dean wants nothing more than to use all of it, all the horrors of what he has seen, of what he has done, those things that have been forever seared into his mind, to exact revenge onto this dirtbag. He wants to make him suffer, not only for the attack the night before, but for every single solitary bit of pain and constant torture that Dean feels each and every day. Dean doesn't care anymore whether this man actually deserves it or not, he just wants someone to pay. For everything.

As he moves on, Dean refuses to acknowledge the lessening strength in his limbs or the headache that starts to form. Nothing is going to stop him from this. His focus remains on the figure ahead of him, of what that man was responsible for. As his thoughts fade back to the last time he was in an alley, to the last time he met up with this man, the images begin. Just a few, but Dean is bound and determined not to let anything get in his way. He loosens the images grip on him with a couple shakes of his head and when they start to recede slightly, he resumes his march behind his prey. He is careful not to make any sound and tries to follow the same strides taken by the other man. Closer. Closer. Almost on him. Dean clenches his fists and gets ready to pounce. Right at that moment his head starts to pound more and more, ramps up the images in his mind, of Hell, of death, of torture, of utter and complete devastation and Dean finds he can't help but let out a small gasp. That's all it takes to make the dude in front of him stop in his tracks.

Dean sees him start to turn around, and because he knows he isn't quite as healthy as he would like to be, he reaches into his waistband and pulls out his gun, just in case. He takes a step back and narrowly avoids a fist to the face. Since Dean is not in the mood for a fist fight, and is not willing to give this dude any chance to escape, he raises his fist and delivers a blow to him, and does it every feel good. He connects not with his head, no, he doesn't want to knock him out and miss all the fun. Rather, he hits this scumbag in his chest and succeeds in knocking the wind out of him. As he stumbles backwards from the blow, Dean steps up and places a well aimed kick to the exact same spot he just connected to with his fist. The man falls back and lands roughly on the ground. He instinctively tries to rise to his feet but, well, Dean isn't about to let that happen. Instead, this particular scum is greeted by an arm placed across his throat and the sensation of cold steel as Dean's weapon is placed right between his eyes. And, by the look on the other man's face, Dean is certain that this asswipe is now officially freaked out. Awesomely awesome.

* * *

Sam finally gets their order. He feels like he's been standing in that line for hours. Man, this must be the only joint in town. He pays the cashier, flashes a smile, picks up the goods and heads towards the door. He can't wait to get Dean back to the motel and get some food into both of them. As he continues to the door, as he looks towards the Impala, his footsteps begin to move slower, and slower. What the hell? Where is Dean? As the younger brother exits the diner he scans the street left, then right, almost desperate in his search for some sign of his brother. He puts the food in the car, stands next to it for just a minute and tries to figure out his next move. He hopes that Dean just suddenly decided to go for a little stroll to clear his head and that at any moment he will arrive back here. Anytime now. Anytime. Sam knows he's grasping at straws so he starts to move down the street, his eyes dart ahead and behind, on the search for some sort of indication of where his brother is at.

* * *

"Remember me? Yahoo?" The man feels his chest burn from the blows he has just received and feels his heart beat at a less than calm rhythm. He tries to look into the face of his attacker but can only focus on the hand, the hand which just happens to be placed on the trigger, of a gun that is pressed up to his head. He can hear the ragged breaths of the other man and is genuinely scared to death as he continues to watch the hand, the hand that holds the implement of his possible death within it. And then that same hand starts to shake. Great. He wonders why he has been chosen to be caught up in some kind of junkies hallucination. He remains silent in the hopes this guy will just go away.

"No? You don't remember me? Well, I'm upset. Hurt even, heck, I feel like I might just cry. After all, we shared so much fun together didn't we? Good times were had right? By YOU!"

Dean can not feel anything else but pure hatred. Loathing. He wants nothing more than to pull the trigger, he feels the itch inside him to just do it, to rid the world of this piece of crap once and for all. But no, that isn't what he wants, that would be too damn easy. Where's the fun in that? That would defeat the whole purpose of this little exercise. The name of the game right now is torture. Dean figures he'll start out with some mental anguish, wants to see how much this dude can take. He knows it won't take much, this guy is just some stupid ignoramus with nothing better to do than take advantage of others. Dean wants to hear him beg for his life. To beg for forgiveness, to admit what he did and confess to being a worthless, useless waste of air. And then? Well, Dean smiles as he foresees a lot of physical torture as well. He wants him to feel every bit as terrorized, as helpless, as vulnerable as he was made to feel both in the alley the night before...and on the rack down under. Slow, agonizing, and prolonged.

Dean finds his mind wander back to their last encounter and feels his muscle tense up. He takes a quick breath and talks to himself, tells himself to ease up on the trigger because he doesn't want it to end like this. At least not this quick. He eases up a bit more on the trigger, he doesn't want all his fun to be over with just because he gets some sort of stupid twitch and accidentally blows the guys head off before he's good and ready. Dean smiles. A genuine smile. He loves this. Absolutely, totally and completely. Loves it. The feel of his gun pressed against the bastard's skin, the pure sense of exhilaration as he feels the gun shake, not from his own hand this time, but rather because of a shiver that rolls through this scumbag's body. It's perfect. Dude is scared. And he should be. This is only the beginning. Dean's got all night.

"Okay, don't hurt yourself with all that thinking, wondering who I am, what is going on, what you did to deserve this since you are such a great guy. You obviously don't have much upstairs so let me help you figure it out." Dean moves the gun from the forehead and slides it over so that it now presses into his captive's temple instead. He stares straight into the eyes. He stares with such hatred, such contempt, such raw emotion that he finds he has to ground himself, so he doesn't get consumed by the emotions, so that they don't take total control of him. He continues to stare, he doesn't flinch, he doesn't blink, just stares. Dean wants to make the man sitting before him know, without a doubt, the identity of the man who holds his life in his hands. In his gun. He just stares. And waits. It doesn't take long until he gets the reaction he had hoped for. Dean feels a smile tug at his lips when, as he continues to bore a hole with his eyes into the other man's, he notices those eyes widen to an almost cartoonish level. Yeah, the dude finally gets it. Finally knows how big the shit pile is that he currently finds himself in. And Dean basks in every single moment of it. He holds all the power this time. Dean leans in closer until he is almost nose to nose with the other man. "Yeah, that's right, it's me. And guess what? It's my turn."

**TBC...**


	20. Final Chapter

**HELLO! Welcome to the final chapter of this story! Whew, it has been quite a journey and let me just say THANK YOU to everyone out there who has stuck with me, with the boys, and with the stuff my imagination has brought out. I would really appreciate any comments or thoughts you may have about this chapter or the story as a whole. Thanks again. I hope you enjoy! :-)**

As Dean starts to rummage through the pockets of this guy, he keeps his eyes firmly in place on his face, in a relentless gaze that makes the man shudder and look away. Dean figures he must be busy trying to figure out what is going to come next, what Dean has got planned for him. No way in hell he has the faintest clue. And that just spurs him on. Dean keeps up his search, to the other pocket now, and eventually finds what he seeks. The older Winchester grips his hand on the prize and grins madly as he brings it out and shows it off to the man in his sights. "Lookee what we have here! Man, I am so going to enjoy cutting into your skin, seeing and feeling the blood ooze out of your body, listening to your moans and painful cries. Remember? Didn't you get off on that when it was ME in the position you find yourself in now?" Dean moves his thumb along the blade of the knife and frowns slightly. "Ah, well, it just isn't your night is it? It's a bit on the dull side. That may be bad news for you buddy but great news for me! You see, it's always much more painful when it's dull. Takes longer. More agonizing. I remember it hurt like a bitch when they would use the dull blades on me." Dean pauses and reflects on the memories his words evoke for a second. He shakes his head and continues. "It takes more pressure to puncture the skin. But, don't worry, you will find out soon enough for yourself. One piece of advice though, in the future try to keep in mind the golden rule when carrying concealed weapons. Always keep them in tip top condition okay? You just never know when you are going to need them." Dean smiles. Good one.

* * *

Sam starts to worry. His mind races as he wonders where Dean could have gotten to, what would have made him leave the car when not so long ago he looked like he was on the verge of sleep. The younger brother scopes out the area, his eyes and ears tuned in and on constant alert to catch any movement, any noise. He walks hurriedly down the sidewalk and glances into each store window, each establishment that he happens to pass. The town looks like it is shut down for the night so he is fairly certain his brother didn't wander off to do some late night shopping. So where the hell is he?

* * *

"Take the knife." Dean presses it into the man's hand but feels no attempt by him to grab the weapon. "Take it...or die." The darkness, the control in which Dean says the words sparks the man into action and he grabs the blade. "Good, see, not so hard right? Now, I want you to cut into your wrist." The man's eyes widen in response. "C'mon, don't be shy, I know you are quite capable, the scars on my wrists are evidence of that." The man looks at Dean, shakes his head and is promptly rewarded with a hard punch to the face followed by increased pressure on his neck. "Start slicing, or I decorate this dark, dingy alley with whatever brain matter you have rumbling around in that ugly head of yours."

Sam takes a glimpse down the dark corridor of an alley as he walks past. And then he stops. And backs up. And peers down it once again. Shit. Even in the dim lighting Sam can tell the shadowy figure he sees is his brother. What the hell is Dean doing? Sam can't quite make out the state his brother is in but he seems to be crouched down, knees resting on the ground. Sam fears that he is hurt, or confused, or a million other things. As Sam moves towards the scene he feels a pit form in his stomach as his eyes take in a very disturbing sight. It's Dean alright. Dean, his brother, is crouched in front of another man, and currently sports a wicked, almost evil looking grin that carries with it of both satisfaction and smugness. His brother's arm is placed across the other's neck and Sam swears he can actually feel the hairs on his own neck, arms, and everywhere else stand straight up when he takes in the surroundings in more detail. Dean has his gun drawn and has it pointed, not just in the general direction of the man in front of him, but pressed right against his temple. He sees the other man, a knife in his grasp, and as he gets closer to the pair of men, Sam can hear his brother spit out words full of such venom that they stop his blood cold.

"Do it. Now. Or DIE!" Sam is horrified as he watches the man in front of his brother actually do exactly what he is told. He moves the knife across his wrist and lets out a painful hiss. "C'mon man, what the hell was that? Put some feeling into it! Like THIS!" Before Sam can react his brother grabs the man's hand, puts it back on the handle, places his own hand over top and pushes hard against his skin to run the knife over the same groove that was just cut into him moments before. "Good Job! See? I knew you could do it! Feels pretty fantastic doesn't it? What a rush it is to feel the blood, the life within your body slowly seep out of you. I know it always gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Or, no, wait, then again maybe that was because I was bleeding to death! AGAIN!" Woah, his brother'shead is totally not firing as it should be and the only conclusion Sam can make as he tries to digest everything is that Dean has somehow managed to track down the very person responsible for all the pain he suffered the night before. And, by the look that remains on Dean's face, Sam can tell that all he is consumed by is his want, his need, to exact his brand of vengance onto him.

"Dean?" Sam approaches slower now, not wanting to provoke his brother in any way. "Hey Dean, I think you should put the gun down, let go of the knife and back away. I know you, you do not want to do this." Sam watches as his older sibling tilts his head in the direction of his voice, and slowly turns to look at him. Not good. In this moment Sam doesn't see the brother he knows within that expression anywhere. If the younger of the two didn't know better he would say Dean's eyes are black. Not because of a demon, no, but because of the all consuming darkness within him. The darkness that has bubbled up to the surface, that has escaped the hold of Dean's control, that has suddenly been freed by recent events. The darkness that must have devoured him in the depths of Hell itself. Sam feels real fear grip him as he stares into his brother's expressionless eyes. Fear that he won't be able to reach his brother's tormented mind in time. Fear that his brother is actually going to kill another human being. And fear that if he does, his brother will be lost to Sam, and to himself, forever. Dean doesn't speak, doesn't vocally acknowledge the presence of his younger brother, he just moves his unflinching, unfeeling gaze from Sam back to the man before him.

"Sam, I am so glad you could make it, you are just in time for the show. I was just re-acquainting myself with our friend here. It's okay, don't worry, you haven't missed much, just getting started. Huh, I don't know why but I think he's kind of scared of me." Dean chuckles and smiles at the man before his eyes drift back towards his brother. "And I'm sorry little brother but, no, I'm afraid I won't be listening to you this time. I've realized something. I really do want this. More than anything."

Sam sees the man on the ground look up to him. His face wears a pained expression, the expression of someone who really thinks they are about to meet their end. His eyes plead, his body shakes and his mouth quivers. "Please... please... God...do something... help me! I'm sorry, I...I... I wish I could take it back, just please, please, don't let him kill me!" A loud laugh makes it's way out of Dean and Sam feels a shiver run its course through his own body at the sound. That laugh does not belong to Dean.

"Right, they are always sorry after the fact right Sam? You are a God Damned LIAR! Scum like you are never sorry until you get caught, until you are face to face with justice! Are you gonna tell me you were just out here, trying to find me to apologize for what you did? Or maybe that you suddenly grew a conscience and were heading over to the police station to turn yourself in? Do you really think that I AM AN IDIOT?"

Dean notices that the man is still staring at his brother, silently imploring him to help end this. Not bloody likely. "Sam's not gonna help you, you ass! He is on my side, he is my brother, and what are you? I'll tell ya. NOTHING! You are just some random dick who messed with the wrong guy!" Dean pants as his emotions start to ramp up. "You? God! You have no idea do you? What I can do? What I have done? You would not believe how many times I have ripped away flesh from bone, or believe the sounds of the screams I heard, that I caused, or believe the voices, so many of them as they pleaded with me to stop." Dean closes his eyes briefly and tries to calm his nerves. He needs to focus, not on what he has done but what he still has yet to do. To this bastard. "So save your breath because none of that worked, none of it made me stop. I didn't care, hell, I think I kind of liked it after a while, to have such total and complete control over someone. To be the one in charge for once. It was satisfying, exhilarating. It made me forget, just for a little while, what it was like for me when I was in that exact same position. Made me forget the times that it was me who was brutalized, tortured and helpless to stop it. I turned into the monster I feared, and dished it out just as good, or better than I got it. And you know the funniest part?"

Sam just listens. He feels the sting of tears in his eyes and wants to rush right over to his brother and hold onto him and never let go. As Dean hasn't made any more movements towards the man he is focusing on, Sam just lets him vent, lets his rant continue. As painful as it is to watch, and to hear, Sam is learning more and more of Dean's inner turmoil without even having to ask. His brother spills out all sorts of details to this stranger before him, the one he wants to torture.

Dean stares into the eyes of the other man once again. "Would you believe I didn't even hate those people? I didn't know them, they had never done one thing to me and yet I still did unspeakable things to them, because it boiled down to either them or me. And I chose me." Pause. "So, let me sum it all up for you and make it very clear. You should realize that any pleas you mutter, any screams you belt out will just fall on to nothing but deaf ears. Because, although I did those things to people I had no personal reason to hate, I sure as hell have a reason to HATE YOU!" Pause. Dean's voice lowers in volume as he continues. "So, just imagine it. What I am capable of when it comes to someone like you, that I despise with my entire being, who doesn't deserve to breathe, who is a waste of time and space. No mercy, no forgiveness, no chance for redemption. Just pure, unabashed hatred and at the end of it all you are going to beg me to kill you just to make all of the pain stop. But I won't stop and neither will the pain. But, I am not going to kill you either. I just want to have some fun and then leave you, right here, right in this spot, still alive. And trust me when I say that you will live this little nightmare over and over again in your mind. You will never be free, you will never find peace, you will never, ever be the same. So, we've taken the first step, shall we continue with our little party?"

Okay, Sam senses his brother is moving on from talking the talk to walking the walk and he just can't let this happen without doing his very best to intervene, to break through to his brother before he acts.

Dean feels his brother move along side him and stoop down to be at his level. He doesn't look towards him this time, just ignores him and transfers the blade to his other hand. "You did a so-so job last time so be a sport and go ahead and take care of that other wrist for me okay? A little more pressure this time and we'll be set." Dean holds out the knife to be taken and when no attempt is made, he pushes it forcefully into the other man's hand. "I won't hesitate to blow your brains out, don't test me.. you will lose." Dean smiles broadly as the blade leaves his fingertips.

Dean sees his younger brother move towards him, to touch him, and pulls his entire body out of reach. He stares at his brother and is satisfied his look did the job when Sam stops any more attempts at physical contact. Instead, the younger sibling raises his hands in an I'm not going to stop you, just listen to me for a second kind of posture.

"Dean, okay man, you made your point. Just look at this guy... he is not worth it. You can not do this! I am not going to let you torture him, it will not solve anything! You need to stop and talk to me! Tell me what is going on in your head, don't let it come to this Dean, you are not a cold blooded murderer. Please, let me help." Sam moves again, this time to try and place his hand on the gun, to move it away from its target. Sam is surprised at the hard and cold tone that he hears next in his brother's voice. And it is directed at him.

"Back off Sam. If you don't back the hell off, right now, I am going to put a hole right through this douchebag's head. And, since he is so worthy of living in your opinion, you better do it. Now." To emphasize his point, Dean presses the gun deeper into the man's flesh and lets his finger apply just the most minuscule amount of increased pressure. "I ain't kidding Sam. I will shoot him dead, right here, right now."

Okay, enough is enough. Sam stands, towers over his brother's form and uses a more assertive tone. He needs to deescalate this situation fast. "Dean! STOP IT! You are totally freaking me out! Let's just get out of here and hit the road. You are not thinking clearly and this, what you are doing here, you will regret it for the rest of your life." Sam can't stop the words that flow from him but he can tell in an instant that he has definitely chosen those words poorly.

"HA! THAT'S A GOOD ONE! THIS? YOU THINK I AM GOING TO FEEL REGRET? ABOUT THIS? AFTER EVERYTHING THAT I HAVE DONE WHY THE HELL WOULD I REGRET THIS?" Dean punches his victim squarely in the jaw and lets him collapse onto the ground in a heap along with the knife that clatters onto the pavement. He rises, turns to look his brother straight in the eye but makes sure to keep a firm boot heel pressed into the scum that he isn't going to let go just yet.

"Sammy, you really have no god damned idea do you? This is going to be FUN! Why can't you see that? Why can't you just let me have what I want for a change? Nobody is going to care what happens to this loser. Hell, they will probably thank me! This freak will be so messed up that he won't hurt anyone ever again! Why is that so bad? Why?" Dean pauses and feels frustrated that his little brother won't listen to reason. He thinks about it. Maybe Sam is right? Maybe. No, he is fine, everything is fine, he knows what he's doing. "Not thinking clearly? I beg to differ. As a matter of fact, this is the clearest thought I have had in my head for months! I know exactly what I am doing! I am in complete control of my mind, of my body...and of my _soul_." Dean moves closer to his brother, releasing his pressure on the other man as he does. He silently begs Sam with his eyes to just let him have this one thing, but Sam's expression doesn't change and Dean really starts to wonder if it is him who needs to listen. "C'mon Sam, trust me. This is a good thing. This will help me. I can't...I need... I need. He...but he... he deserves it! I didn't!"

Sam can tell by Dean's body movements and unsure eyes that he is close to giving in. His older sibling just needs his brother to help guide him home. "You're wrong Dean, and inside you know it. Listen to me. No one deserves it. No matter who they are or what they have done, no one deserves it. And what you went through, no one deserves that either. What you are doing right now, as much as you think it will help you it won't. He isn't worth it and it will not make your pain go away. You need to talk to me, to tell me what you went through, and not just a glossing over it kind of talk, a real one. Details. Share with me what you endured. What happened to you. What you did to others. You need to let some of it go. I care about you and nothing you tell me could ever change that. Nothing." Pause. Sam notices Dean's eyes are now focused on the ground. "You are not to blame for what happened when you were in the pit Dean, you did what you had to to survive. Anyone would have. Why can't you just forgive yourself? Even a little?"

Sam watches his brothers posture, his shoulders as they start to sag and he moves in a little closer to him. Almost there. Sam reaches out and is thankful that the gun his brother still holds comes out of his grip without a fight. Sam wants to take his brother in his arms, hold him in some sort of embrace, just be there for him. But he doesn't want to spook his older brother, he wants him to be the one to make the first move.

Dean looks at his brother, and blinks through the tears that have formed, through the memories, through all the torment that constantly swarms through him. He turns to look at the man he has just terrorized and realizes that his brother is right. It isn't worth it. He has to stop. He wants to believe that Sam can help him, can listen to the horrors, can make the memories lessen, dim, fade into the back, even for a moment or two. But Dean fears that if he delves into the very fires of Hell and tells his brother what lurks within them he will walk away from him for good. Dean's brain runs around in circles, contemplates every single thing that his brother has said. No, Sam wouldn't lie to him, wouldn't lead him on right? He cares, he wants to help, he may be the only one who can. Yeah, maybe it's time to let go. To share. To express to the closest person in his life the demons that flood his heart, mind and soul day and night. With his baby brother by his side maybe he will be okay in the end after all.

* * *

The man starts to move slowly and tries to come to terms with what the hell is going on. His face tells him he was just on the receiving end of a pounding but what else? He finds it hard to concentrate, to focus on, but he knows there is more to it. He attempts to rise but his efforts are met by a wave of pain in his arm. Shit! He looks down to his wrist and it comes crashing back to him and then he stops, paralyzed with fear. His mind races as he thinks this may actually be the night he is going to die. Why? Because he just messed around with a few people here and there? He never actually killed anyone right? So he doesn't deserve this. He does not deserve to die. His eyes roam in all directions, looking for his attacker and when he catches sight of him he sighs a little in relief. The two other men in the alley seem to be caught up in an intense conversation. Perfect. He tries to move again, with more determination, but it is no use, he isn't going to get out of here. His hand reaches out to the ground in hopes that it will steady him and brushes up against a familiar object. His knife. He knows he won't be able to just slink away down the alley without being seen so decides he might as well try and give that bastard something to remember him by long after he is dead.

* * *

Dean takes a step towards Sam and just as he is about to say the words that he knows his brother has been waiting and wanting to hear, he stops short when the younger sibling's eyes widen and his mouth spits out a warning. Before Dean can register what is going on he feels a hot flash of pain in his shoulder, as if flames are shooting right through it. His vision goes white for a second and his breath is caught in his throat. The pain flares up through his arm. It takes a couple of moments for him to realize what just happened but when he does he figures hey, all bets are off. Although he isn't in the mood for torture anymore, it doesn't mean he can't beat this sorry excuse for a human being into the ground the old fashioned way.

Dean spins around and his hand juts out to grab hold of the arm. The arm that holds the knife which now has the distinctive colour of blood, Dean's blood, glistening off of it, dripping down the blade, down the shaft. This guy really is an idiot. Dean wants to beat this shitface to a pulp. He holds the arm high and tenses as another wave of pain hits him and leaves him fighting to catch his breath again. He sees a shadow at his side and then sees Sammy take hold of the knife-wielding arm. "It's okay Dean, I got it. Let me take care of this. I'll be with you in just a minute." Dean lets go of the arm, staggers back a few paces and watches Sam go to work.

Sam slams the idiot roughly up against the wall and spits angrly into his face. "You really are a stupid son of a bitch aren't you? You must really have a death wish. I was going to let you walk out of here pretty much unscathed but you just screwed with my big brother... AGAIN! And I just can't let that kind of stupidity go unpunished." One. Two. Three punches in the face. One. Two. Three knees to the midsection. One. Two. Three wacks of this slimeballs head against the side of the building. Sam lets go and watches the body as it slides down to the ground, unconscious and bloody. Sam turns to look at his brother and they share a small smile.

Dean holds his injured arm and gingerly walks over to the figure. He reaches into the pocket again and when his hand comes into view this time it is wrapped around a cell phone. "Okay Sammy, can we get out of here now?" Sam nods and the two brothers walk along the alley, peer out into the street and make it back to the Impala as fast as they are able.

"What's with the phone? Gonna rack up a huge bill for this asshole?"

"Nah, that ain't my style." Sam watches his brother dial and keeps silent. "Yeah, um, there is this guy in the alley, down from the diner on the main street and...well... he... god, I've never seen anything like it. He, he was crazy! Slicing himself, hitting himself, bashing his head against the wall. He kept on muttering away. Stuff like how he doesn't deserve to live... that he wishes the police would find out what he had done and lock him up. It was just so disturbing. I... well I freaked out... and... I ran...but I think he really needs some help. Please, send an ambulance right away! My name?" Dean hangs up the phone, wipes it off and throws it out the window. When he turns to his brother again it's with a huge smile, which turns into a slight grimace as he hold pressure on his wound. "No worries Sammy, a one or two stitcher at the most."

* * *

Back at the motel the two brothers sit at the table and each nurse a glass of whiskey. Sam was satisfied that Dean's newest injury was nothing to concern himself overly about and had stitched it up promptly when they returned to the room. What worries the younger sibling is that his brother is going to clam up the first chance he gets. That he will ignore the events that Sam had been witness to and just brush it aside as nothing. Sam fidgets with his glass, swirls the contents around and around and wonders how he can bring up the topic without pissing his brother off. When he looks up to see how Dean is doing, he is met by his intense eyes and Sam raises his eyebrows in a familiar question mark way in response.

"You were right Sammy. Thanks. If you wouldn't have been there, well, I think I would have done something that I would end up hating myself for. And I don't think I can add one more thing onto that list." Pause. "I've been thinking about it and maybe you were right about something else. Maybe it's time. I can't do it alone anymore. I wanted to keep you out of it, didn't want to drag you down into the pit with me but it is killing me, from the inside out. I can't escape the hole I have within me. The hate, the loathing that I feel every time I look into a mirror. I don't know how much more I can take." Dean looks down to the table. "I... I need your help Sammy. Please."

Sam doesn't respond right away. He feels he is in a slight state of shock, in awe, that his brother is the one to bring this delicate subject to the forefront. Sam knows that it means Dean really is on the brink. And he admits that it scares him a little. But, he also feels a huge sense of optimism. His brother wants to talk about it. Wants to share his torment. Sam knows it will be a painful journey, for both of them, but also knows that it is also the start to some sort of peace for his brother. He hopes Dean can learn to forgive himself for some of the things he feels responsible for. And Sam is going to do whatever he can to make that possible. To help his big brother heal.

"Of course Dean. I will do anything to help you. I want to help you. Whatever you need, whatever you want to talk about, you can. I am here for you and no matter what you tell me, I will always be here, I will never leave you."

"Thanks Sammy." Pause. "Well, I think I would like to talk now." Dean looks into Sam's eyes and watches for any sign that he is having second thoughts. When he sees his baby brother nod in his direction and give him a small smile Dean feels sure. Sure that this is a step in the right direction, that he is doing what he needs to in order to start to live again. To try and lift the veil of darkness, even if only a little, before it takes him over completely. Dean feels thankful that he has someone like Sammy, someone so willing to help him try to pick up the pieces.

"Okay Sammy, here goes but I'm not sure where to start." Pause. "I guess, well, might as well start at the beginning."

Sam sees Dean look up to him again and already sees the tears start to form. He takes the chance and reaches over to put his hand on top of his brother's, not in a prolonged fashion, no, just a quick touch and a slight squeeze to let him know he is ready to listen, that he is there for him. A grim smile flashes across Dean's face then and Sam feels the floodgates slowly open. Dean closes his eyes, takes a swig of whiskey from his glass, sighs and takes a deep breath...and when he begins, his voice is not much stronger than a whisper.

"The first memory I see in my mind from Hell is when..."

**THE END...**

**Thanks for reading everyone. I hope to be back soon with another angsty tale. :)**


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